


Illuminated Soul

by Kaelas, yamikuronue



Series: Tales of Aldis [3]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abusive Parents, Agender Character, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Harem, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Complete, Deal with a Devil, Drow, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fantastic Racism, Fluff and Angst, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mabari, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Multi, Not That Kind Of Family, Polyamory, Polygamy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stabbed In the Gut with a Sword, Trans Character, Varric Is Asexual, Very Good Dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 22:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 337,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16649218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelas/pseuds/Kaelas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamikuronue/pseuds/yamikuronue
Summary: Lady Sage Marian zi'Hawke has everything she could have wished for. She's a Guiding Light, one of the ruling class of Nyra; she's a mage, openly and acknowledged, in the most magical city in Aldis, and she has a loving, supportive, and wonderful (if a bit eclectic) found family. She's married to a wonderful woman, she's getting help for her Battle Fatigue, and best of all, her brother's left town permanently. What more could she want?And yet, something's still not right. Her soul still hungers for more. She's still afraid, sometimes, that all of it will vanish and she'll be left alone. When another Light dumps his assignment on her, leaving her to handle a politically sticky situation she's not been briefed on, Hawke goes on a whirlwind adventure that ends up changing her life -- and the whole world.[Direct sequel to Guiding Light, and the third part of the trilogy that begins with The Magus]





	1. Call To Adventure

"Take note," Marian zi'Hawke calls out to her assistant, dragging her feet into town. "There are entirely too damn many dragons in this corner of Aldis."

In the five months after Marethari's funeral, Hawke has thrown herself into her new calling as a leader. In addition to taking Aveline up on her offer of trainig, the half-elf has started attending more Light meetings, working with other Lights (many of whom were rapidly becoming sick of her) instead of skipping to handle situations solo. When Vodem Greatridge was appointed Magistrate of Coalside, she showed up at the man's home to congratulate him with a small cask of good Dwarven whiskey, just to make sure they got off on the right foot. She hired Bodhain to handle the increased volume of letters she received as a result of this activism, and threw money at Merrill's clinics as well as her own, helping the elf understand how fundraising worked in Nyra. When the leader of the Adrift, a group of travelling orcs who had become lost in an extraplanar journey and ended up in Nyra, asked for Guard backup handling an adventure, she was right there with them, leading the men.

And then, of course it was a dragon, and of course she came back scorched and exhausted. "I mean it. That's, what, four, five kills now? Just for me?"

Andy la'Frane -- tiefling, guardsman, and personal assistant to zi'Hawke -- chuckles softly, then winces as the movement causes his arm to twinge. They'd not brought enough healers- reports had hinted it might be a dragon, hence the Adrift assisting. But they were _not_ expecting **two** dragons. A mated pair in fact, one of them a nesting fucking mother. So low priority injuries like a simple fracture of a forearm were pushed back to be dealt with once they got home.

"Well, I'll hand in the reports and see the healer- you'll have to come in and sign off on them in the next day or two. Please don't forget," he says, giving her a pointed look. "But go on in and see your own healer," he adds with a wink. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to... take a look at you and take care of anything you need."

"Good." She sighs. "Tell Bodhain I'll be in tomorrow morning to see about that mail."

"Rightio ma'am," Andy says, tossing off a sloppy wave with his off hand.

As Hawke lets herself into the house, she's immediately struck by how quiet it is. Normally, if she's away, her wife Merrill is right there to greet her. Or at least her mabari Silence is, if Merrill doesn't notice her come in because she's in her craft room or the like. As she starts for the back of the house, she spots two pairs of shoes in the living. And... bra laying half in the living, half in the hallway. Given that Merrill is flat enough that she doesn't wear them... huh, guess things are going well with Aveline? _About the right size_ , she thinks. Hawke smiles, veering for the kitchen to make some tea. She'll let the dog in, then; it's too quiet by half. She's never really lived alone, after all.

Hawke is in the kitchen, sipping some tea and petting Silence, when she's joined by a woman wearing nothing but pair of slippers and a very contented smile. Well, until she sees the kitchen is already in use anyway.

"Oh!" Seline la'Frane, priestess of Ciren, blurts out, darting back out into the hallway. From the bedroom, Hawke can hear Merrill call something out, but not what.

_...Seli?_ Hawke jumps up, moving to the doorway. "There's tea," she calls after her.

"...thank you," Seli says after a moment, peeking around the edge of the doorframe into the kitchen. "Ummm..."

Merrill calls out again, to which Seli says back, "Hawke."

There's a happy squeal- which sounds off for some reason, then, the sound of hurried footsteps.

"You can borrow my robe if you want," says Hawke, laughing, as she pulls back into the kitchen.

Before Seli can answer, Merrill comes rushing into the kitchen and nearly tackles Hawke. Her wife is also buck naked, and very excited, as made clear by the firm dragon pressed against Hawke's thigh. "You're back! So early! Or is it later? Did we lose track of time?" she babbles happily between kisses.

"Hello to you too," Hawke laughs, kissing back. "Having fun, dearest?"

Seli slips away to get something to wear. It's just too strange to be naked in front of Hawke. She knows very well Hawke wouldn't mind, and in fact would likely appreciate it, but Seli has put her far too firmly in the 'off limits' part of her mind to reconsider now. It would be too much of an abuse of power and trust to do that sort of thing, given Seli's position as her sex therapist and guide. It works for some, yes. Sometimes that's a very valid step in helping someone, but not in their case.

"Mmmhmm, Seli is very fun," Merrill says brightly, cuddling into Hawke. She giggles then. "Strangely shy for what she does for a living."

"I have to admit, I'm surprised. I didn't think Seli liked women," she admits, cuddling Merrill close.

"I have a penis," Merrill reminds her, pressing close to demonstrate. "Though to be fair, we did start making out before I put it on. But it was definitely the ring that convinced her."

Seli, wearing the offered robe, clears her throat in the doorway. She's still faintly flushed but is at least looking at them directly. "I'm not... especially attracted to females, no, but it's not entirely a turn-off," she explains. "How... how are you Hawke?" she asks after a moment.

"Jealous," she laughs. "I only got metaphorically fucked today. We had to fight dragons," she adds.

Seli's eyes widen and she looks at Hawke intently, wanting to be sure she's just joking. "Dragons!" Merrill shouts, pulling back to start patting Hawke down almost frantically.

"Only small ones!" she protests. "I've been healed. I'm fine."

"Clothes off," Merrill insists, still prodding at her.

Seli winces a little, looking down. "I'll... go find my clothes," she says awkwardly, taking a step back.

Hawke blinks. "Wait... it's fine, I'm not planning to--" She blushes, then, faintly. _So definitely **not** interested in me._

Seli pauses in her withdraw. She'd still been watching Hawke's face and had caught that flicker of hurt and... doubt? "You two should catch up. Without me intruding," she adds with a smile.

Merrill pauses in her inspection- she's almost sure Hawke is fine, she just wants to be entirely sure. Plus, making sure can be fun. "What? Seli, you're Clan, you're never intruding."

"Sit, I'll pour tea and we can trade stories?" she asks, hopeful.

Seli hesitates another moment, then cracks a smile. "Alright Hawke... but maybe Merrill would like to get dressed?"

"Why?" Merrill asks, a bit baffled at the suggestion.

"Because Seli would like you to," affirms Hawke. "Go get your robe, love, and let me pour you tea."

Merrill glances at the two of them, biting her lip in thought. After a moment, he grabs a towel, sits down, and then covers her lap while giving them a 'how's this?'

Seli flushes. "No, no, it's not- It's just that... I'm sorry. Some priest of Ciren I am," she says quietly.

"Hey," warns Hawke. "Don't talk that way about my friend."

Seli double-takes at Hawke, then bursts into laughter for a moment. "Someone is really picking up on those therapy tools, huh?" She gives Hawke a fond look, then sighs. "I just... I've been in a triad, but I've never actually... been in... open polyamory and it's more awkward than I would have thought it would be. Not because of you," she says quickly. "I think its more that it's new and... well, very emotional and personal."

"Do you want me to spend the night at Voice so you two can talk?"

"No, I refuse to chase you out of your home," Seli says instantly. "Besides, I can't stay overnight- the twins," she adds. "I just... I wasn't planning on this," she says with a flush, then gives Merrill a slight glare. "Merrill is... honestly rather pushy." She doesn't sound upset, just a little... chiding.

Merrill, for her part, tilts her head. "Is... that bad?" she asks, looking at Hawke then.

"It can be. But I never got anywhere being too softspoken," she adds. "Really, Seli, it's fine. To be honest, I sleep away from home more often than I'm home, it's all the same to me. That would give you two all the time you need to talk things through. It's.. important to communicate about what you want."

"I... I think I'd feel better if you were at least here for that," Seli says after a moment. "I... I honestly don't even know if I want..." She wince a little. "A bit part of it was that I haven't... been with someone since..." Her eyes close in quiet grief. "Since Lovan died. I, uh, watched Zevran and Andy twice, but I didn't... I wasn't ready to... be touched." She studies the table. "I've been... thinking about it for a few months now, but it's hard to find someone, given my... family life."

Hawke's eyes widen. _She hasn't had sex in four **years**?! Way to go Merrill -- she definitely needed this._ Even after Rosemary, it was only a month or so before Hawke pushed her way back into Zevran's bed. "I'm glad you could come to Merrill," she says, after a moment of shock.

Seli snorts. "I know every well what you're thinking Hawke. And it's not like I didn't masterbate. Well, not for the first half year or so after the twins, but afterwards, sure. I just... I lost my taste for casual sex, and it's hard to find someone that's willing to even serious date, much less marry, a woman with twins and a platonic husband. Oh, and he has to be both bi and willing to let me watch him have sex with a tiefling and be watched having sex with me." She shrugs a little. "Greedy Seli, I guess, wanting a miracle to happen twice in one lifetime."

Merrill makes a soft, sad noise and reaches across to take Seli's hand.

"...You can lose your taste for casual sex?" asks Hawke, baffled. "Some weeks it's all that keeps body and soul together," she jokes. "I'd be lost without sex."

Merrill giggles softly. "If we hadn't met your father and grandmother, I'd wonder... actually, maybe your grandfather was a nymph! It would explain a lot, honestly..."

"Yes, Hawke, and some people just don't want sex at all. There's types for every style, orientation and degree for sex," Seli says patiently. "For me, I just... I remember how it was with Lovan. The emotional connection, the knowing we shared of each other. Uniting just flesh would be... too great a let-down." She glances at Merrill and smiles faintly. "These last few months of working with Merrill about her therapy groups... we've gotten close."

"Yes, I know, I know," she groans. _Explain a lot, huh?_ "Still baffles me."

"So... do you want to have more sex?" Merrill asks directly, getting a start from Seli.

"My, that's... to the point." The priestess smiles faintly. "Which is typical of you, isn't it?" she asks with a smile, getting a careless shrug in reply. "I... maybe? I want to talk it over with Andy... and think it over but... probably. I think so, yes."

"I'm glad," says Hawke. "You deserve someone as wonderful as my... husband," she adds, with a sly grin toward Merrill.

Merrill blinks, then giggles. "Oooh, and you can watch me have sex too. I..." She blushes a little. "I like that," she finishes in a soft, masculine voice.

Seli smiles faintly, then goes a touch wary. "Watch you with... Zevran? I'm not sure Andy would be interested, though I wouldn't mind if you wanted to ask." She hesitates, then adds, "and... if... I mean, this is... kind of you. To... let me... indulge myself, but it's not... I still want to complete my triad again in truth one day, if I can. So, I mean, if-"

She breaks off as Merrill squeezes her hand again. "If you find your second miracle, then I'll be happy for you. And still willing to have sex with you, if your new husband is okay with that sort of thing. I love you, Seli, and I want you to be happy."

"Heck, if you want I can put some feelers out," the Champion offers, not for the first time.

"It's hard to shop for clothes for someone else, getting a lover for another doesn't work out," Seli replies, not for the first time. "But thank you." She pauses a moment, fretting at her lip. "You're sure you okay with this? Both of you?"

"Seli," Hawke warns. "You know I'd say something if it bothered me."

Seli winces, looking down at the table. "I... I know you get... disappointed. That I'm not... interested in you. That way," she says softly. "So me being with..."

_Ouch. Doubly because it's true._ "I am...disappointed. But not so hurt that I don't want you to be happy."

"You're a good person, Hawke," Seli says, reaching over towards Hawke with her free hand.

Merrill beams at them, glad this isn't going to cause a fight or hurt feelings.

"You are attractive," Seli assures Hawke. "To me specifically, I mean, I just... don't feel comfortable with it."

"To be fair, I value you as a friend more than I'd want sex," she admits. "It's just... strange to me, that you wouldn't... that I don't get to share that part of myself with you."

"It feels like it would be... an abuse of my position as your priestess," Seli tries to explain. "I'm afraid that I'd feel guilty afterwards, which would make me uncomfortable around you and ruin our friendship."

"I do see a priest for mental health now," she points out. "It wouldn't be the worst thing if I didn't get sexual counseling from you anymore. As long as you stay in my life."

"That's fair. It makes sense and to be honest, you don't really need counseling on that topic anymore. Haven't in over a year really. But... convincing the stupid part of my brain of that is much harder," Seli says as she makes a face, which makes Merrill giggle.

"Sounds like _you_ need counselling," Hawke teases.

"Twice a month," Seli says easily. "It's required of all counselors at the temple, just to make sure those that help others are sound enough to be helping. Or something like that anyway. But... for now, I will say that I don't mind if Merrill shares details," she offers with a blush.

"Oh good." She grins. "So. Who wants to hear about my killing a pair of dragons?"

Seli makes a face. "Keep it light on the gore," she requests. Seli is very much not an adventurer. Huh. Which makes her the only member of the Clan, that's of age, that is not or has not been such. Even the pets are...

"Oooh, did you get any scales or leather? I could make you new boots! Or maybe leather chaps...."

"Yes, yes, it's all in my bag. But, so, the Adrift came to us a few days ago, suggesting a joint venture..."

\---

A few days short of a week after that little outing, Hawke strides into her office in Bedrock whistling cheerfully. Seli had spent the night over with Merrill- she's got a bit of a backlog of need stored up and Hawke is very willing to let the poor woman work on it- so Hawke had spent the night with Aveline. It's really nice, seeing the paladin as relaxed as she has been since that entire Jeven conspiracy thing had finished up. After a few minutes of conversation with Bodahn, mostly about what's on the to-do list for today but also asking about Sandal, she heads into her office to catch up on some paperwork.

At lunchtime, Hawke pulls her brand new dragon hide boots off her desk and heads out for the lunch meeting Bodahn had told her she has. Bit of a sudden thing- a foreign dignitary, meant to be meeting Lady zi'Oakspeaker, dropped into her lap because zi'Oakspeaker had to cancel last minute. Thankfully, it's just a 'entertain and host thing' instead of a meeting. The dignitary, a Lady Estelle, is evidently not just the owner of a very sizable ruby deposit, but also has a collection of tomes on runic enchantments that the Lights are very, very eager to get a peek at. The talks for that will be done by zi'Marassi and zi'Magnus, then brought to the Council as a whole to approve, but she's to be entertained at all times to ensure she's nice and happy. Given she was given only a quick two minute briefing by an assistant's assistant, it's a very good thing she's not expected to do any actual negotiating.

Eh, if nothing else, Hawke'll get a free lunch at the very fancy and very popular Emerald Delight. Their fish dishes are the best in Nyra. And, even better, they're not snobbish or pretentious. Well, not much anyway.

Despite arriving four minutes early, she's told that her dining partner has already arrived by the maitre'd and so quickly escorted to the semi-private table. As she heads for the table, she sees the Lady Estelle first in profile. Pale silver hair, mostly loose and draped across a soft russet colored cloak. What little order is imposed on the hair comes from a finely wrought net made from strands of silver joined by ruby knots. A single slim ear decorated with several studs along the helix and a teardrop dangle on the lobe shows though the hair, the fine point giving hint at her heritage. The side of her face that Hawke can see reveals dusky grey skin over fine bones. High cheekbones, a softly curving jawline and a delicate nose are paired with plump pink lips and aquamarine eyes.

She's playing idly with a silver bracelet, rubies and stones the color of her eyes interspaced as charms, her slim, graceful fingers never missing a beat as she runs the charms across her palm. Hearing Hawke coming, she turns, revealing the shoulderless and low-cut dress of soft black silk made marginally modest only with the assistance of the cloak. She's not as endowed as, say, Isabella, but for an elf, she's rather blessed. What's more, she clearly knows how to showcase and use what she does have to good effect. As she sees Hawke, those sweet lips of hers curve upwards in a welcoming smile

Hawke smiles back, warmly enough, though she makes a small mental note to keep Lady Estelle away from any of the Adrift. The Drow were well-known in Nyra; unfortunately, none of the stories she'd heard were good. A variant of elves that lived deep underground, in the eternal darkness of the subplane called the Underdark, they were said to be as steeped in cruelty as the surface elves were in nature. Certainly, they worshipped Sirena, the goddess of tyranny and conquest, rather than Uryll, the goddess of nature and the hunt. Most feared and distrusted the Drow, but few with such fervor and intensity as the Adrift. After all, it had been their war against the Drow that led them to experiment with planeswalking; generations of combat had led them to a hatred of all things Underdark that bordered on fanatical. She'd heard enough stories during their adventure to know better than to bring Zevran around them, much less this beautiful creature. And she is beautiful. Stunning, really. A good choice if she wants to fuck away some of the sting of being passed over by Seli.

_Stop it, this is Light business._

She bows, as is proper, as she reaches the table. "You must be Lady Estelle? I am Sage zi'Hawke, called the Champion of Coalside."

The lady slips out of her seat, the movement graceful and somehow... sinuous despite the simplicity. Instead of bowing or curtsying, she spreads her arms, rolling her wrists towards her as they reach full extension. As she does that, she turns her head to the side, baring her throat in part. Without the table in the way, Hawke can see that her feet are bare aside from an ankle bracelet on her left and a runic tattoo on the top of her right foot. the hem of her dress reaches to mid-calf, though there's still a fair bit of leg on display, as both sides of the dress are slit all the way up to her waist.

"zi'Hawke? I was told I was to met with a... zi'Oakspeaker but... " She returns to a normal position, her eyes sliding across Hawke's form with very familiar intent. "I am strangely undismayed by the slight."

"Sadly, zi'Oathspeaker was unavoidably detained. To my benefit," she jokes, looking the woman over with that coy smirk that implies 'I am very pleased by what I see'. Hawke takes a seat, smiling and tilting her head. "Forgive me if I give offense, by the way -- I am unfamiliar with your culture, though I have met some descendants of your race. I was raised among humans, so I have adopted their ways."

Lady Estelle takes a seat as well, one slim white eyebrow arching. "I think that might be for the best," she comments after a second or two. "I am hardly a typical example of my race, having been largely raised on the surface. Nevertheless, I am... grateful," her voice lingers quiet interestingly on the word, "that you are being so welcoming. Such is rarely the case."

"Is it? A shame. I have thus far found your company... delightful." Hawke smiles. "Where were you raised, then?"

"A small enclave some hundred miles or so from here actually," Estelle replies easily, snapping her fingers sharply to summon a server. "It's mostly just my family and our... retainers. A few other families, but only a few."

"I see," she says, noting the rudeness but chalking it up to cultural differences. "I was raised in Golden Shores, a small human village that sadly was overrun by demons when I was young."

Estelle flinches back, her hand flashing into an averting gesture as she says something rapidly in a language Hawke doesn't know. Sounds close to elven, but not. She does pick up Junon's name in it though -- the goddess of war and oaths wasn't a bad name to pick up, but it was an odd one. "My condolences. Such abominations are a plague upon this world in all ways."

"Thank you," she says warmly. "I have pledged my life to preventing such tragedies in the future. Ah, I should ask -- is this the most comfortable language for you? I am not as much of a scholar of languages as my father, but I do speak several others."

"I speak several languages as well, but unless you happen to speak gnomish..." She shrugs languidly. "Common is fine, but thank you, Lady zi'Hawke," Estelle says, lips caressing the Light's name as if tasting the finest dessert.

"As you wish," she says, leaning forward to place her chin on her hands.

"So... I'm curious. How did you end up getting stuck with this particular duty?" Estelle asks, leaning back in her chair without much concern over how that affects her bodice. Which is _wonderfully_ , by the way. The server, just arriving, certainly seems to agree by the way he has to fight to keep his eyes on polite areas.

Hawke skillfully places an order, smiling and thanking the server. Estelle orders a simple green salad and onion soup, after confirming neither have any meat to them. She speaks briskly and almost negligently to the server, but her body language is teasing and coy. Once she's done, she turns back to Hawke as if the man had stopped existed.

"As for this duty, it's known that I'm friendly and outgoing, and also the youngest Light," she says, playfully. "So I end up covering a lot of eclectic duties."

"Young... perhaps. But clearly old enough," Estelle replies with a smile. "That does make me wonder however- how does one of your few years achieve such an honor? Nyra is a most impressive city, from what little I have been... able to see, and so I would assume one of her rulers would be equally impressive."

"I'm a hero," she says simply, like that explains everything.

Estelle clucks her tone. "But clearly not a storyteller! Surely you cannot expect me to be satisfied with such a... short performance."

Hawke laughs. "If it's a story you're after... there I was, heading for the Underdark, on an expedition to rediscover a forbidden temple I had previously discovered so I could ensure the area was now safe for future expeditions," she begins.

Estelle's eyes widen slightly as Hawke begins. The drow listens intently, asking leading, thoughtful questions and making all the right sounds at the right times during the story. "Well well... it's not often that one of our surface kin does so well in the dark. Not very deep, perhaps, but still. Impressive."

"It was my second time," she says with a pleased smile. "And like I said, I'm a hero. I've been adventuring for, what, five years now? Something like that?"

Estelle looks a touch amused. "Five years. So very long!" she teases Hawke.

"What can I say, I'm merikos," she laughs, alluding to her human blood -- and the shortened lifespan it gives her over a pureblooded elf.

"Mmmm yes you are," she murmurs, eyes slipping down from Hawke's face for a moment. "Speaking of... you mentioned having met merikos of my kind before?" Estelle asks curiously.

"Twice, yes. One lives here in Nyra, the other a few days away. Both raised on the surface, by surface-dwellers."

"Ah. That would explain, perhaps, why you are so.... receptive to my company," Estelle muses. "It really is nice, to have such a civil conversation without fear or hate lurking in my companion's eyes. Rare, outside the enclave."

"I can't imagine what you've been through," she says quietly. "I know some of what it's like to be rejected, but never to the degree you must have."

"It... is a hardship," Estelle agrees. "But it also tempers us. Teaches us to be strong and careful, to work with each other, and to live our lives without concern of what others think of us."

"Those are good qualities. I myself am often lacking in the 'careful' department."

"Well... if you're too careful, then you edge your way into boring." She smiles wickedly. "And what fun is that?"

"Now _that_ is something I've never been accused of." She smirks. "In fact, I'm known for being quite the opposite. Promiscuous, maybe, but never boring."

Estelle hesitates a moment, then asks almost gingerly, "promiss-cuous?"

"It means, having lots of sex, in my case with lots of people. [Promiscuous]," she adds in Elven, in case that helps.

Estelle's eyebrows raise up. "And is this a... good thing? In the thoughts of those around you?"

"Not usually. But what do I care?" She grins. "It suits me, my wife, and my lovers."

Estelle's smile widens. "Lovers? You have a harem then?" She pauses, her expression shifting even as she asks that. "Wife?"

"I'm married to my wife, Merrill Hawke, and I have three long-term lovers, as well as casual sex when it suits me. All but one of my lovers have other lovers as well."

Estelle leans back, her expression thoughtful but otherwise neutral. "I see," she finally comments, shaking her head a little as if to focus herself or dislodge a thought.

"Is that a problem?" asks Hawke, raising an eyebrow.

Estelle blinks, then laughs gaily. "If it was, then my wife would be rather put out with me, I suspect. No, it just struck me as... ironically bizarre, that a merikos elf would have a marriage in the style of a drow," she explains. "Deliciously so."

She leans forward. "What, really? That's a Drow thing? Please, tell me more. I'm eager to learn of any culture that practices marriage the way I do."

Estelle blinks. "It's not much more complicated than that," she says, confused.

"You marry multiple lovers? Male and female? And they in turn are free to marry others? Is that how it works? How do you handle divorce? How do you handle living arrangements? What if two metamours don't get along?"

"No, no, no- I'm sorry, I seem to have explained this badly," Estelle says quickly. "Drow marriages are always female to female. Not all females, of course, most are in a more powerful female's harem, with the males, but higher ranked of course."

"Oh," she says, her face falling. "I see. That's far less uncommon, I think. But, harems? How does that work?"

Estelle hesitates then. "For... most drow or for myself and those in the Robijn Enclave?"

"Either? Both? The more information I have, the better choices I can make," she says, leaning back a bit with a smile. "Sorry, I can get a little intense when there's new things to learn."

"Knowledge brings power," Estelle replies forgivingly. "In your more... traditional drow cultures, the top, say, five percent of females will own everyone else. The other females are given more status than the males, but they are still bound in service to the Matriarchs. Their harems are comprised of anyone they own that they desire. For males, it is a much more pleasant servitude. For females, it is a chance to earn their Matriarch's favor and gain a higher status. Perhaps even be given a child of the Matriarch's and thus be elevated to Famiglia Secondaria. Ah, the outer... layer of family."

Hawke freezes. _Pleasure slaves. She's talking about pleasure slaves._ She takes a deep breath, fixes the smile back on her face. "And in Robijn Enclave?"

"We still use the... basic framework. But even the males are given a choice on whether they wish to... avail themselves of the easier life to be found in a Matriarch's bedroom," Estelle explains, watching Hawke carefully. "If nothing else, the addition of the Robijn Sett," 'sett' being the equivalent for gnomes to a dwarf's clan or catfolk's tribe, "to our Famiglias when we came to the surface and formed the Enclave would have made keeping... slavery, I think is the word? Would have made slavery untenable." She shrugs delicately. "I was born on the surface, so I have never owned a slave, though my grandmother did."

This seems to put her mind at ease. "I see. Forgive me, I've known ex-slaves, it's hard for me to swallow the idea of enslaving anyone. Your way sounds much nicer." _Not great, but nicer. And who's perfect anyway?_

Estelle relaxes as well. "Thank you again. It is.. even more rare for someone to listen and actually hear, instead of just assume and judge. I understand our... culture is very different than most others, even now, but our people are happy. Well, as happy as any people are, I suppose. Every group has its... malcontents and whiners."

Hawke nods. "Tell me about it. I spend a lot of time in Coalside; I've seen the worst of people Nyra has failed, and I've seen people in other districts who believe they have the worst of Nyra despite having it objectively better."

"Coalside?" Estelle asks curiously. "Is that far from here?"

"Coalside is the poor section of Nyra," she explains. "Nyra is large enough that it has many districts, each the size of a large settlement outside the walls."

"Ah, yes, thank you. I was given a brief listing of the cities districts, as well as a description of each, but Coalside and... Outer something were only glossed over," Estelle replies. "The other poorest section I would imagine?"

"Outer Crafting, yes. That's primarily a merchant district, and industry; very few people live there, so it's often forgotten about. They call me the Champion of Coalside, that's my home district -- well, the district I lived in as a girl, and the district I spend a lot of time in. I live in Lily and Oak now."

"That one I recall- the entertainment district, correct?" At Hawke's nod, Estelle gives the merikos elf a slight pout. "I don't suppose you might be free later to give me a tour?"

The Guiding Light smiles. "I can certainly arrange some time. It'd be my pleasure."

"The current plan is for me to be in Nyra for four days, then I am taking a tour of the protectorate villages by airship for a month. I've already hired transport, a somewhat... disreputable vessel, but the captain is" a wicked smile, "very engaging. But perhaps you would be interested in volunteering to be the Nyrian envoy that accompanies me?" Estelle requests, leaning forward, her arms on the table.

"I would, if the Lights can spare me. I ought to become more familiar with our protectorates myself; knowing what a village appears to be on paper is not the same as visiting." She pauses, then adds, "though, there is one protectorate I cannot visit. But I could camp nearby while you see the sights if you wish."

"Oh? That sounds... ominous," Estelle says with a gossipy interest.

The Champion laughs. "It's a legal thing. I'm not allowed to set foot in Goldengreen anymore. I may have pissed off some of their council members."

"Oh my, how did _that_ come about?" Estelle asks with wide eyes, shifting so she's resting her chin on one hand. Her face grows thoughtful for a second, then, "Goldengreen... is that an elven village?"

"It is. It happens to be the village my wife hails from. My blood father lives there too, these days, but other than him I can't recommend any of the villagers." A dark look passes through her eyes.

Estelle sneers slightly, the expression somehow coming off as haughty and sexy. "I think perhaps I would wish to skip any elven villages regardless," she comments, using one finger on the hand holding her chin to tap her cheek pointedly.

"Can't say I blame you," she says, placidly. "My wife, thankfully, is rather unlike those of her former tribe."

"That is reassuring," Estelle says with a faint smile. "It would be... undesirable, to steal you away for a month if it would cause problems with your wife."

"You should meet her while we're in town," suggests Hawke. "She's delightful."

"I suppose the novelty of meeting an elf that doesn't attack or spit on me would be interesting, if nothing else," Estelle allows. "Though there's only three days until my tour, so... timing might not allow it. Perhaps after we return? I'll be here for a week afterwards, possibly longer."

"Makes sense. I notice you ordered elven-style food -- is that normally your preference? I can ask her to find a good restaurant we can go to when we get back."

She glances down at her nearly finished lunch. "Hmm, I suppose you could say that," she muses. "I would call it drow style, but that's a matter of perspective. But yes, I rarely if ever eat meat. Fish on occasion. Even more rarely, properly prepared flesh of a magical beast." She considers a moment. "And I'm not sure if surface dwellers would consider insects to be meat? They are animals and yet I do not recall seeing anyone eat them outside our Enclave."

"Surface dwellers -- well, I should say, humans -- don't tend to eat insects as much, no. Goblins will, of course. I believe catfolk do, though I never did get a straight answer on that one."

"Hmmm. Interesting, the little facets you discover about other people. Always so much fun, to... slip off the obscuring layers of another and see what is hidden underneath," Estelle says, using her free hand to flick her hair back over her shoulder. "To see them laid bare before you."

Hawke smirks. "Interesting indeed."

Estelle leans in a little. "We still have perhaps five minutes before I must be off to my next meeting... perhaps enough time for one last exchange of questions?"

"Alright. You go first."

"Hmmmm. Why do you worship the deity you do?" Estelle asks.

"You haven't asked which deity I worship," she points out. "To be honest, my relationship with the gods is complex. I've considered changing deities many times. At the end of the day, though, I believe most strongly in the goodness and worthiness of every person. I may have to kill from time to time, but given half a chance I appreciate everyone I meet."

"Most of the time I can guess who from why," Estelle says with as sly smile. "And it saves me a question. Besides, the 'why' often reveals more about a person."

"You should have asked me for a top three," she jokes. "Too late now. My question: If you could live anywhere on Aldis, where would it be and why?"

"The Hand's Keep," she says without missing a beat. "Because it's the home given to the person holding the greatest position of power in the most powerful nation I am aware of currently in existence, not to mention being a place being built on and for magic." Estelle leans in a little, her hand sliding from her chin, along her throat to rest on her breastbone. "And that, my charming Light, was two questions. But alas, we are out of time, so I shall have to take my forfeit from you tomorrow, during lunch perhaps?"

"Count on it."

\---

The next day's met-up goes just as well, leading Hawke to offer her services as guide to the Lady Estelle. An offer which is quickly- almost rudely- acceptly. She's given times and an itinerary- one that makes it clear they're traveling by airship, and a rather good one at that. And that's just about it, other than to met Lady Estelle and her entourage at the gate out of Nyra in two days, two bells before noon. Of course, now that she's able to go- err, has to go, which she wasn't expecting to happen so fast, she'd wanted to see if she'd be able to and then check with her Clan, but things happened rapidly- she has to tell her anchor partners and Papa she'll be gone for an entire month. That'll be fun!

Hawke decides to bite the bullet off all in one go -- she invites Varric and Zevran over for dinner, trying her hand at roasting a chicken. And she doesn't burn it! Mixes up olive oil with the oil she got from the Adrift as a thank-you, but doesn't burn the chicken.

As Merrill brings out some fruit they can enjoy with their newly-cleared sinuses, Hawke clears her throat. "So, just to let you know, I'm going on a business trip day after next. I'll be gone for a while."

Merrill pouts instantly, but doesn't really protest. "What kind of trip? Light business or Champion or clinic or hero or-"

"Let her answer Moonbeam," Varric says, watching Hawke carefully.

"Light business, actually. I'll be gone a month. I have to show a visiting dignitary around the Nyra townlands."

"A month?" Merrill says, now with a hint of dismay in her voice. "Like... a whole month?"

Zevran frowns slightly. "When are you going?"

"I'm sorry, Merrill, it came up suddenly." She smiles, outlining the broad strokes of her itinerary. "We'll be avoiding Goldengreen, of course -- what with my banishment and Lady Estelle's not being welcome -- but that just means we'll have time to stop by Raplin's Oak a few days later."

Varric coughs suddenly, then reaches for his ale. "Are you sure you don't want milk, Papa?" Merrill asks, fussing over him.

Zevran snickers. "Goldengreen isn't worth the stop. Xenophobic pricks." He gives Hawke a playful leer. "Lady Estelle is she? Hoping to guide her personally?"

"Oh yes," the hero purrs. "She's gorgeous."

"Shame you are leaving so soon... you will have to see if she is amenable to... patronizing a local business. One of Coalside's great success stories, in fact," Zevran says humbly.

"That's, ah, Lady Estelle of Robijn Enclave?" Varric asks carefully, licking the ale of his lips afterwards.

"It is," she confirms. "I've already suggested Merrill take us out to dinner when we get back, so they can meet. Perhaps we'll visit Voice after?"

Out of sight of the other two, Varric gives her a 'are you fucking insane?' look.

"Ooh, that sounds lovely! There's a little place that just opened up on Mollyflower that Seli and I went to last week. Very nice, they make this strange little pudding they call 'flan' that's just yummy," Merrill says happily, then pouts. "...when you get back," she murmurs sadly, already missing Hawke.

Hawke flashes Varric an innocent face. "It won't be so very long, dearest. You'll barely have time to miss me."

"Miss you now," she pouts.

Hawke laughs. "Shame. If you're too busy missing me to read a story..."

"And cocoa? And snuggles?" Merrill begs, a slight flicker to the corners of her mouth. Is she..?

"Yes, alright, cocoa and snuggles. You could just ask for those things, you know."

I'm a Tethras, I need to practice by haggling and conning skills. Con-making skills? Con-jobbing skills?" Merrill explains, then gets distracted by vocabulary. Or possibly grammar.

Varric chuckles, but it's clear he's not forgotten the little detail of Hawke bringing a full-blooded drow to met Zevran. Oh, and also going off, alone, to shack up with one for a month. Wait... His always churning brain starts making connections. "This itinerary- airship, I gather? Which one?"

"I don't know yet, they're sending an invoice to my office for my travel."

_Hmmm. Could be anyone of course. More likely to be someone else. There are two other airships in the area, rare as that is. On the other hand, Hawke is involved. So. Yeah, it's her ship._ Varric nods slowly, deciding to keep that to himself. _Be a nice surprise._

"What's she like?" Merrill asks suddenly from the kitchen where she's heating milk.

"She's very insightful. Tall, with amazing hair. Clever, too. She kind of reminds me of Maeve, honestly." To be fair, that's not a bad comparison. Aside from Estelle being less than half the demigoddess' height at a hair under five feet.

"Oooh, she does sound nice!" Merrill gushes. "Is she clever like Zevran or like you and Poppa?"

"I think like Zevran." She smiles. "And very flirtatious, too."

"I look forward to your return even more eagerly, something I had not thought possible," Zevran replies glibly, sparking another look from Varric towards Hawke. "What brings this Lady Estelle to our fair city? Anything interesting or boring Light stuff?"

"Diplomatic relations between her enclave and our city. The Light assigned to her had to duck out last minute."

"To your gain, it seems," Zevran says with a wink.

Merrill comes back in with a tray of mugs and sets them down on the table. "You'll Sending?" she prods, throwing her arms around Hawke.

"Of course," she promises.

Merrill squirms around to lay in Hawke's lap, then turns begging eyes on Zevran. The merikos drow sighs, smiles, then fetches the book they're reading for Hawke.

And both ladies cocoas, of course.

\---

Hawke is able to met with Estelle thrice more before their departure. Once more for lunch the following day, then breakfast for the next. Arriving at the house the Guiding Lights keep for visitors, she sees two people- a male catfolk and a female merikos oread- slink out of the house. They're both clearly wearing yesterday's clothes and walking a touch gingerly. Their expressions are sleepy, but very satisfied, though the catfolk looks slightly shocked and perhaps a little annoyed at something. Estelle- who had given permission to drop the titles when they're not working- acts perfectly normal when she answers the door a minute later, and they have a very nice breakfast despite a few stares.

Later that day, while dropping off some paperwork at the Lantern, Hawke spots Lady Estelle being... talked to by Lord zi'Polim. Crusty old bastard- for someone that's increasingly more desperate to get his son married off, he's very prudish. And evidently disapproves of something or other the drow had said or done. Hawke didn't really pay much attention, just swooped in, distracted him, then left with Estelle in tow for the old fossil can stop them. They spend a very pleasant hour or so, walking and chatting, before Lady Estelle had to beg off to attend a meeting with Lord zi'Magnus, whom Hawke assured her would be much less of a bore. The drow caresses Hawke's cheek and murmurs 'thanks for the rescue' before sashaying away. At the corner, Estelle tosses a smirking glance over her shoulder and blows a kiss before vanishing out of sight.

The morning of their trip, Estelle arrives at the main city exit a few minutes after Hawke does. She's just as well dressed and put together as always. Today's number is a dark blue silk dress, though the ruby cape is there as always. As they wait, they chat about the first village they'll be going to, one close enough that they'll be able to reach it by tonight and stay at a tavern. Toamill village, really not much more than a resting place for people just leaving or almost at Nyra. Soon enough however, Hawke hears a very familiar voice call out a cheery greeting- to Lady Estelle?

Hawke turns, her face lighting up. "Bela! I had no idea you were in town." She winces, a moment later, walking that back: "I just mean, I'm surprised is all. I'm sure you were busy."

Isabela grins. "I was going to come see you, but when Estelle mentioned you'd be joining us, I figured I'd have plenty of time." She slides onto Hawke's lap, smiling at Estelle. "Good morning," she says cheerily.

Estelle's eyes widen and her gaze flicks from Hawke to Isabella. "I... hadn't realized the two of you knew each other. Certainly not so well. I hope I haven't given offense," she says, directing that last bit at Hawke.

Hawke blinks. "Huh? No, why?"

Bela licks her lips, looking at Estelle. "I think she means the sex."

"Why would that offend me?" Hawke asks, blankly.

"No idea, luv," purrs Isabela.

Estelle glance at them both again, then offers a smile. "I think this is more- what did you call it, Hawke? Societal differences I think?" She stumbles a touch on the first word, but not bad. Her common is pretty good, but it's clear she doesn't use that in her day to day life. "If no offense has been given, then I suppose the matter need not be discussed any longer. Shall we get going then?"

_People are weird about sex_ , Hawke decides. "Alright." She presses a kiss to Isabela's cheek, and the sea wench only pouts a little before getting up.

Once Isabella stands up, Estelle offers Hawke her hand. "Perhaps you could share the tale of how you two met as we head for the Siren's Echo?"

"It all started at the Gilder Goose," she begins, taking Estelle's hand.

That conversation takes them the rest of the way to the Siren, where Isabella has to split off to do Captain things. Though not before exchanging another kiss with Hawke of course. Both of the two ladies head for their cabins to get their things settled in, Estelle also meeting back up with her two companions. Hawke had- very briefly- seen one of them, an elderly gnome female that seems to be Estelle's scribe. Or possibly accountant? Polite, but doesn't talk much. The second person is new however, a very nicely built drow male who despite having a slim elven build has a set of abs to kill for. And, Ciren bless him, a fondness for tight leather and shirts that don't reach the top of his trousers by a good four inches. Interestingly, none of the three wear shoes even on the airship.

After settling in, the two ladies met back up on the deck to continue their discussion from the previous day about some of the differences in their two cultures music. Drow music is heavy on drums and repetitive patterns- Estelle explains that traditionally, the repetition is provided by the echos of a cavern, but musicians hidden out of sight can be used if needed instead.Also a lot of chanting instead of singing. Toamill is about as boring but bustling as they'd expected, the party quickly making their way to the tavern to get dinner and rooms. Isabella makes it clear she's planning on bunking with Hawke, something that gets a knowing smirk and a wink from Estelle. The drow seems to have plans of her own, given the way she's almost hunting the freckle faced blonde harpist the tavern has playing during their dinner.

\---

The following morning, Isabella is gone before breakfast, cursing at the hour, to make sure her idiot crew have the ship ready to fly. Hawke heads for the room Estelle is in to make sure the drow is up in time to have some breakfast. Arriving, she knocks sharply and gets a 'yes?' almost immediately. Giving her name, she's invited in without delay. Which is strange, given that once inside, Estelle is... busy.

Estelle is calmly seated on the edge of her bed, fully dressed and ready to face the day aside from the last little bit of a braid she's working on tying off. The other occupant of the room, the harpist, is most certainly not ready to go out. Kneeling naked save for a silk ribbon tying her hands behind her back and the front flap of Estelle's dress draped over her shoulder, the blonde woman has her face hidden between Estelle's thighs and doesn't seem to have heard Hawke enter. Or didn't care.

"Good morning Hawke," Estelle says lazily, voice clear despite the distracted gleam in her eyes. "I gather we need to g-get going?" Her breath hitches just slightly near the end and she sighs gently. She doesn't seem bothered by being watched in such a position, nor that the way her dress is currently arrayed exposes the vast majority of her legs. But unlike Merrill or Zevran, it doesn't seem to be a particular thrill, a naughty bit of exhibition, instead she's treating this as being as decorous as being walked in on while reading a book about gardening.

"Good morning," says Hawke, arching an eyebrow. "I hope I'm not interrupting." If she wants to be looked at, Hawke is more than willing to look: her eye skims over Estelle appreciatively before skimming down the woman's torso. "Or unwelcome."

Estelle shakes her head. "Of course not, I'm just about ready," the drow replies, biting her lip for a moment before resuming work on her hair. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she says, leaning against the doorframe, crossing one leg over the other. _So what, we just hang out? That's kind of strange. Not bad necessarily, but weird._ "And yourself?"

"Hmm, quite. Sophia here was able to help me unwind a bit. The beds are not as nice as I'm used to but were serviceable enough." She pauses then, her breathing quickening. Her eyes close and she shivers before taking a deeper breath. Opening her eyes with a flutter of eyelid, Estelle glances down with a slight frown.

"Ah... do... is it polite to leave a token? Normally such service from a non-friendly Matriarch's harem would merit a small gift but I'm not sure what would be appropriate in this case," Estelle says, looking uncomfortable for the first time since Hawke arrived.

"Generally you talk that out before you get started," she points out. "Is this Sophia a prostitute or is this just casual sex?"

Estelle stares a moment. "I'm... not sure... what's a protestute?" She finishes tying her braid off and starts to stand but Sophia- well, who Hawke assumes is Sophia anyway- hasn't moved. The drow frowns, reaching down to try and shake the woman back into awareness.

Hawke frowns. "Sophia? You alright there?" she asks, trying to sound casual. _What's going on. Has she killed that girl? I really hope she's just asleep. She's probably just asleep. Is that racist? Crap, that's racist isn't it. Something else to purge out of my brain, thank you Mother._

Sophia lifts her head after the first shake, looking dazed. "Oh dear, she's rather far into things," Estelle says with a sigh. Seeing Hawke's worry, she offers a smile as she stands. "I think I overestimated Sophia's experience in her eagerness. She's a natural, an absolute gem. I think I shall make a point of stopping here on our return to see if she would be interested in relocating," she finishes thoughtfully. "Her skill with a harp was also pleasing." She strokes Sophia's cheek, causing the twenty-something to nuzzle against her hand.

"Alright," the hero says slowly. "Do you have this in hand or do you need help getting her back to where she came from?"

"I was going to put her to bed here to let her sleep," Estelle says airily, clearly not worried about Sophia's condition. "She'll be fine with some rest and some time to gather herself. I'm just not sure about whether I should leave a token as thanks. Normally it would go to her Matriarch. Well, one of my Famiglia Secondaria would deliver to one of hers," she allows, helping Sophia to the bed and gently, tenderly tucking her in. "I had bed warmers a few days ago and the male was offended when I offered them a token," she says, clearly baffled and almost offended herself.

"Generally there's two ways this is handled in Nyra. If she's a prostitute, that is, someone whose profession involves services like these to some extent, she'll expect to be paid for her time. If she isn't, generally food is provided in the morning as incentive to stay the night through like this, but having her own needs met is part of the payment for meeting yours, while a prostitute is solely focused on your pleasure. Things get more complicated when there's the potential for impregnation, as contact information must be left, but in your case it's probably fine. The offense was likely due to the implication that you had not satisfied them sufficiently as to be payment itself, or perhaps a prejudice against prostitutes -- many find the profession unsavory." She hesitates, glancing over the woman. "You're certain it's safe to leave her? Only, she's looking a bit... enchanted."

"That's very kind of you to-" Estelle's eyes widen for just a second and she goes still. "You can use divination magic on her if you wish," she says carefully, expression carefully blank. "I did not bespell nor drug her."

"I believe you," she says with a shrug. "If you'd said she'd taken something, my only request would have been to make sure she consented to taking it and then having sex. Some people enjoy that sort of thing. I prefer to be clear-headed, but that's me."

Estelle studies her for a long moment, then smiles. "I'm sorry for... assuming you were assuming," she says softly as she finishes with Sophia. She smooths down the front of her dress, then makes a slight face. Gesturing at her waist, she mutters the incantation to simple cantrip. "Not as good as a proper wash but it does the trick."

"Right? I usually prefer a soak as well. Much more relaxing."

"Oh, I like the feel of being... filthy," Estelle says with a wink, "but only if I'm naked. For some reason, having clothes on while dirty bothers me. I think it's because my humbling was doing laundry." She glances at Sophia for a moment, then nods. Taking the silk ribbon on the floor, she ties it around a thin copper link bracelet with dozens of ruby chips smaller than a grain of rice embedded in it. "Hopefully she takes it as a thank you for the night and not a... comment on her talents," she murmurs as she sets the token on the nightstand. "Shall we be off?" she adds, louder.

"Yes, let's. What's a humbling?" she asks, as she straightens from the doorway.

"Hmmm?" Estelle grabs her little day bag as she heads for the door, gesturing for Hawke to lead the way. "Oh, it's the name for one of our newer traditions, one of the half-dozen or so entirely new ones. It's designed to teaching us humbleness, as the name implied," she says with a laugh. "Evidently, in the Underdark, a Matriarch's daughters would never have to bother with mundane duties. We of Robijn are attempting to... correct certain failings of our home culture and overweening arrogance in our ruling class is part of that. I was given the duty of cleaning the clothes of my mother, grandmother and our sisters until I came of age."

"Not a bad plan. In Nyra, most children do chores around the house for much the same reason. I used to wash dishes, tidy my room, pump water, sweep the halls.."

"You are... elevated nobility then?" Estelle asks, sounding more curious than disdainful. "Or is your wife... Merry was it? nobility?"

"I suppose in your nomenclature, yes, I've been... elevated. You'll find in Nyra, we're more of what's called a meritocracy: if you have skill enough in some important areas, you can become nobility. In essence, we prize what a person can do, not who their parents were."

"We... have a similar system," Estelle says after a moment. "Well, did. Right now, there are only four Matriarchs in Robijn and all four Famiglia are sworn allies so... not a lot of room for movement of that nature. Then again, given that 'talent' in most drow cities is defined as 'managed to supplant an established Famiglia' either by killing them off or getting them executed or banished..." Estelle winces a little. "I'm rather happy with our current bloodline system."

Hawke nods, slowly. "That... sounds less like a meritocracy, I'd say. In a pure meritocracy there wouldn't be a need to wait for an opening, but essentially, I earned my position by saving the city." Recalling the story she'd told earlier, she adds, "Well, indirectly, anyway."

"That can also happen but it's very, very rare, and requires the approval of an avatar of..." Estelle pauses, then makes a grasping motion before continuing seamlessly, "for it to happen. Very, very rare. And if you're denied by the approval, the penalty is... severe, so few are even willing to petition for it."

Hawke turns to look at her quizzically. "Are you... forbidden from saying your deity's name?"

"Speak not of evil, lest you invoke it," Estelle says carefully, voice very low. "We... no longer worship the one we did beneath the ground. We have turned to Naugrix and Junon for the most part, though many of us offer prayers to Z- other deities as well." Naugrix, of course, being the god of communities, and Zanon the god of amibition and wrath.

"Ah," she says, nodding knowingly. "That's fair. It's not the view most take in Nyra, so I thought I'd ask."

"You are... almost alarming accepting," Estelle says slowly, coming to stop just outside the main room of the tavern. "Why?"

Hawke shrugs. "I've been told a lot of hateful things before, things that weren't true. I try to keep an open mind. If you hurt someone, I'm going to have words with you about it, or maybe blows. I can't agree with some of the gods your people worship, either. But the gods can defend themselves, they don't need me to do it. I don't see any reason to shut you out or be cruel to you over a difference of opinion."

Estelle blushes a little. "I... seem to have trouble guarding my tongue around you," Estelle confesses. "I can't believe I let that slip," she mutters. "Please don't spread that around... we don't pray to His darker aspects really. It's just that... the glory and success of ones Famiglia is the driving force of our lives. We strive to make it great, train to make it stronger and live to bring joy to all within. How can we not be proud of it?" Yeah, it's pretty clear she's talking about Zanon. Who, to be fair, is probably the most 'acceptable' of the evil deities.

Her companion nods. "It's really ambition for ambition's sake I take issue with. I want my Clan to prosper, and I'm very proud of the people I've chosen to be in it. Self-improvement is a worthy endeavour, as well... but I improve myself so that I can do better by the people I'm sworn to protect and serve, not just to feel better about myself. People that do that often find themselves... cut off from the greater community."

"Each person is part of that which makes up the Famiglia. Yes, some parts are more valuable or important than others, but that doesn't mean even the least of them are without worth," Estelle says, then glances around. "But perhaps this is not the best place for this sort of talk. You... I think I can trust, but..."

Hawke nods. "Did I ever tell you how I ended up with a pet Mabari?"

"As I did not realize you had a pet mabari in the first place, I must admit you have not," Estelle says with a pleased smile.

"I do indeed. It all started with a gang called the Dog Lords..." she begins.


	2. Cultural Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Siren's Echo pulls out of port, and the adventuring party makes for their first stop.

Four days and two villages later, and Hawke is about ready to tear her hair out. She and Estelle were still getting on very well. Estelle has slept with Isabela at least once more, plus she's almost certain that male drow- whose name she still hasn't had a chance to learn- isn't here just to carry things and looking fairly imposing with that double-sided blade staff of his. And the drow is constantly flirting, constantly touching Hawke's arm or back. And, this morning, inviting Hawke into her rooms while bathing. Didn't bat an eye at Hawke watching her, even as she finished and rose, naked and flushed, to towel off and dress.

Didn't give even a hint of an invite either. Just acted like it was entirely normal, just like the incident with Sophia, nothing worthy of comment or explanation.

Well, enough is enough. They're back on the ship for tonight and most of the following day and it's a bit blustery, so Isabela is busy being a sexy captain-lady. Which means there's plenty of time for a talk with Estelle. Said lady's scribe, the merikos gnome lady, had let Hawke in without a word, then left the room, also without a word. Seriously, Estelle's companions are a bit strange- Hawke had seen them talking to other people but they never really seem up to talking to her.

"So," Hawke says, sitting in the chair next to Estelle -- backwards. "You, me, Isabela, and a bottle of wine in my rooms tonight?"

Estelle blinks, looking up from the book on Nyran history. She'd just been reading in her cabin, wearing a thin silk robe that only goes about three inches past her waist and sipping a glass of wine when Hawke had plopped herself down. The drow pushes a pair of sweet Ciren, she wears little horn-rimmed glasses to read? Shit, she'd started talking.

"-ways enjoy spending time with you Hawke. Is the wine special or is there something you wanted to talk about with the three of us?"

Hawke blinks, shaking her head. "No, I meant sex. Specifically, having it, not just talk."

Estelle's eyes wide, her expression rapidly flickering through emotions. Surprise. Regret. Lust. Resignation. Confusion, then understanding. And finally, nerves. "I... stormstruck," she curses softly. "I... I should have explained, but I didn't want to... Hawke, I'm very sorry, but I can't, not- I'm faithful to my wife. I promised her."

"Okay," she says slowly. "I can respect that -- I came in here with the resolve that if you said no, that'd be the end of it -- but... how would this be unfaithfulness in a way your other sexual exploits wouldn't be?"

"Because you're- well, you. I mean. You're my equal. Possibly even my superior. A less historied, less powerful house, but you are a Matriarch now, while I am only a Tertiary Heir. Sophia, Isabela, Joria and my Toren," hah! That must be the male drow's name, "are all beneath me. They're no threat to Claudia. You... would be." Estelle lowers her gaze. "I would... very much like to take you to bed. Or bath or chair or dirt floor but I can't... I love Claudia. That is... priceless. Even my mother is only friends with her wife. My grandmothers- any of the grand or great-grandmother- none of them even liked their wives. Few of them even respected them."

"Because you think I'm... better than you? Status-wise?" She thinks about offering to abase herself, but shrugs, then, standing. "I said I'd respect your boundaries, and I will. If you're looking for another way to think about it, let me know, but otherwise, I appreciate your clarity." She pauses, then adds, "And you probably shouldn't call the people in your care beneath you, that has connotations of being less deserving of love."

"But... they are," Estelle says, puzzled. "I mean, beneath me, not less deserving of love. They are of lesser... value, in turns of power and... authority? I'm sorry, I don't know if- this probably sounds even worse, I must sound like-" Her mouth twists a little. "Like a drow."

Hawke hesitates, then puts on a small smile. "At least you notice it yourself," she points out. "Language can sometimes reveal hidden biases to ourselves. That's why I talk about the people I'm sworn to protect, not the people under me. It points out that I owe them more than they ever owe me: I took oaths, while they're just trying to live their lives."

"But they _do_ owe me. Well, my grandmother. Yes, we owe them protection, guidance and support, but they owe her their loyalty, obedience and service. They work, so I may lead us. They labour, so I may expand us. They suffer, so I may protect us." Estelle sighs. "I could walk up to any member of my Famiglia save my direct maternal line, make a demand, and they would gladly obey. Not out of fear, but because that is the pact. That is their _purpose_. And it _works_. Our people do not just survive, but thrive. We are safe, well-fed, well educated. Happy! So why are we wrong to live this way? Just because outsiders think it immoral? What gives you the rig-" She cuts off, flushing. "...what gives _them_. You have not...sorry."

Still, something dark crosses across Hawke's face as she speaks. When she does reply, it's only to say, "No, I'm sorry if I offended." And she turns to leave.

Estelle rises to her feet quickly. "Hawke, no, please! I- please not you too," she pleads. "What did I- it isn't slavery, it isn't! Anyone can leave a Famiglia, to go to another Famiglia or even leave the Enclave entirely. No-one is held against their will. We even provide supplies, arrange transport to the nearest town. We're not slavers..." she insists quietly.

Hawke sighs, stopping with her back to Estelle. For a moment it doesn't seem like she's going to speak. Then, softly, she begins:

"Maybe you've noticed I never talk about my family. Or maybe not -- I forget sometimes that not everyone knows that when I say Papa I mean my Dwarven Papa, not my Elven sire. But I never speak of my mother, my brother, my sister. I suppose that might be weird to you, that I don't. Family is so important in your culture, and mine is... Was..." She shakes her head, sighing. "I know something about how hard it is to leave your family, even when you want to. Even when they hurt you badly. Even when they don't want you around. When what you are is unacceptable to them, filth or treason, and yet... there's a sense of duty, of obligation. They only wanted the money I was bringing in, but I felt I couldn't leave, couldn't abandon them and let them down. Leaving is hard. It's better, far better, to do right by them in the first place."

"But we do. We've forbidden executions without trials- real ones, done by another Famiglia. It's illegal to punish with whip or fire in the Enclave. Starving or disfiguring someone is illegal, even for a Matriarch. We take care of our Famiglias now, we're not like... like we were. We're better," Estelle insists, needing Hawke to understand who she is compared to what her family comes from. "Yes, the Matriarchs have power over the Famiglias, but how is that different than your nobles? Or your rich? If a noble orders it, doesn't a commoner have to muck out a stall or clean a floor? If a noble demands it, doesn't a soldier have to risk their life? Fight and be hurt, maybe die? Why is what we do so different, just because we're... organized about? Because we've codified it?" The drow is asking in earnest- she simply doesn't understand how what her people does is different. "My people are looked after, their treatment protected by laws and they're allowed to leave if they wish. Why do people insist it's slavery? No-one ever explains, never tries to understand us. They just look at my skin, my hair, and judge."

The hero shakes her head. "I don't see anything wrong with how you've organized, not in theory. It sounds like a nice place to live overall. It's the way you talk about your people. The way you seem to view them as... something akin to pets. Or no, because in the city most people don't expect anything from their pets. In the countryside, if you have a dog, it works: herding, guarding, whatever. You expect it to work, and when it can't, you put it down. Ah, kill it. People are more than that. They have to be; I've seen the kind of things people do to each other when they think of each other that way."

Estelle opens her mouth to fire an angry retort but visibly swallows it back. She takes a deep breath and thinks a moment before trying to answer. "I care for my Famiglia far more than I do for any simple beast," she says carefully. "I just don't... lie about things. I am more valuable than Toren. The training I've been given, the power I have, the skills I know, the tradition and history of my bloodline- my loss would harm our Famiglia more than his. That's not a slight on him, it just is. I still care about him, he's served me as a guard since I was a little girl. Kept me safe for decades at risk to himself, faithfully and well. But if it became a choice, neither of us would hesitate to risk or even sacrifice his life to save mine. For the sake of our Famiglia." Estelle tries to smooth out her expression, even out her voice, as her training dictates she should have been doing this whole time. She is... not entirely successful, certainly not to Hawke's skill. Hawke's opinion clearly means a great deal to the younger woman.

"To Astea's eyes, you're the same. Two souls, struggling through this life. Your role in life is different than his, and you're probably right that if there was an attack he would and should die to protect you, but you're not made of better stuff than he is, you're just... trained differently. You were born in a different circumstance and you have different knowledge and skills. But the minute people start acting like they're inherently _better_ , they start treating people badly. I've seen it time and time again."

Hawke turns around, now, revealing the tears she's barely holding back, the hurt in her face. She doesn't look a bit angry, not now. "I follow Astea because I love everyone. The poorest begger is just as worthy as the Lord Hand himself. I would never have survived long enough to become noble if it wasn't for a gambling drunkard, a businessman of ill repute, a gang with bad intentions toward me... everything is connected in mysterious ways. It is my place to protect this city, even if it means my death. That's not a path everyone can follow. But it doesn't make me any better than the people I'm trying to protect. It just means I have a different path. Your Toren has one path, and you have another. His path is to protect you, and that's just as important and worthy as your path to leadership. I do not and will not condemn either of you for your paths in life, only your... your attitude, I suppose. The way you talk about him. I find his path just as valuable as yours -- because without men like him, you couldn't be the person you are. Does that make sense?"

Estelle's brow furrows as she tries to follow Hawke's words. _Not made of better stuff... well, sceleratii value souls differently, but that's based on deed and history, not the soul itself... perhaps. Certainly Great-Grandma's journals didn't seem to imply a preference for one infant sacrifice over another that wasn't based on who the parents were._ She shivers slightly at the thought of filling a child's mouth with live coals, then slitting their throats when they start to die so the spray of embers and life's blood will kindle a bonfire. As always, she thanks her patron Naugrix for sparing her that life, on either side of the blade.

_Beggars as great as the Ma- Patriarch of Nyra? But that doesn't make any sense! He is clearly of more value than anyone else in the city. His absence or presence would cause far more difference. His life will cause far more change, more progress._ Estelle's head shakes a little, unable to grasp that concept. _People's souls might be equal, at the start, but the path they take changes them. Adds worth, adds cost and value._

_Without Toren... I would be a different person. It's likely that another guard would have stopped me from playing with that snake just as he did when I was young. And even if it had bitten me, Mother could have saved me surely. And yet... would they have been as kind about it? Would another guard have sat me down and explained why he smacked my hand? Would they have spoken with my tutor to give a lesson on snakes, so I could assuage my curiosity without danger?_ "I... I can see the... reason, of giving worth to souls. Of seeing each person as born equal," she says slowly. "And it is very true that even the least of- the lowest ranked of a Famiglias can affect the lives of a Matriarch, sometimes profoundly. That is not a new thought, though I have not heard it put in this way before. Certainly not in this context. But... how can you say your worth is the same as some rapist thug? How can you say that your wife's life is not more valuable than some horrid child-killers?"

"I mean, in practice, I don't." She gives a bitter laugh. "I kill people like that, and I don't sorrow for it. My wife is more important to me than almost anyone's. But... they could have been better. The rapist I knew most recently truly didn't understand how her actions affected her victim. If she'd been taught differently, it wouldn't have happened. So I need to-- but that's not what you asked. Sorry." A deep breath. "My wife is more valuable to me because I love her. But to Astea, everyone's the same. It's... fair, to a point, to judge people based on their actions. My wife made better choices than a child-killer. But my wife also had advantages that maybe someone else didn't have. So how much of that is her personality, and how much her circumstances? Most of what you describe as valuable is circumstance. If there's no chance for Toren to make choices that would make him more valuable, than what you really value is the circumstance you've been born into, not yourself. Does that make sense?"

"So..." Estelle bites her lip for a few seconds, then stops abruptly with a guilty start at the blatant slip. "You value people on their... potential? Even potential that is..." She gropes for the right words, "already been passed over? Or rather, you give value to that potential, in addition to their actual deeds and abilities?"

"Yes, to begin with. I start with the value of their potential, and then measure them by the fairest yardstick I can find. The Lord Hand has to do a lot more to get my respect than a begger -- if you have only a bowl of gruel to eat, and you give it away to a child, that's a much kinder act than the Lord Hand giving away a whole cartload of grain, because he won't miss the grain at all. I measure you by the yardstick of your role in life and your Toren by his own and I think both of you are valuable and worthy. If that makes any sense."

"The yardstick of your role," Estelle repeats slowly, evidently latching onto that phrase specifically. "I.. I think I like that. It does make sense- Matriarchs are always honored of course, but we only truly celebrate that greatest of them. It's easy for them to do good for their Famiglia. They must do wondrously if they are to be remembered outside of text and lecture."

"Exactly!" She nods, a relieved smile spreading across her face. "I have the gods' blessings, so I have to work that much harder to prove myself."

"You... have given me much to think about," Estelle says quietly, though she does give Hawke a matching smile. "I had not... I had hoped that I would learn and perhaps find someone who could... understand and learn from me in turn. But I must confess I did not expect such..." She trails off, unable to verbalize her feelings right now.

Hawke runs a hand through her hair. "I get that a lot," she jokes. "Nobody ever expects me, even when they ask for me. It's kind of odd, actually."

"Probably because you're beyond wondrous," Estelle murmurs as she studies Hawke. "You're... divinely touched."

"So they tell me," she jokes, before her smile fades. "But, seriously, I am. It's a burden as much as a blessing, but I meant it when I said I'm a hero, not just an adventurer. I've given my life for Nyra before, and I'll do it again if I have to."

The drow heiress nods slowly, then glances at her hands. "So... are we still... friends?" she asks timidly, though she tries to put a veneer of carelessness to the words.

Hawke sighs, then nods, slowly. "I... think so. I'd like to be. You're a pretty amazing person." She hesitates, then adds, "but if there's anything else you can think of that I might... disapprove of, I'd really like to know now so I can process how I feel about it."

Estelle stares at Hawke blankly for a full minute. _How do I even answer that? How am I supposed to know what would be worth your disapproval? I can't even just think of the things that people accuse us of- half because most of that is wrong and half because some of the stuff that's true Hawke accepted with a qualm._ "Umm... I don't know... How do I even think of what to- to share? I mean, what needs to be shared?" she finally says helplessly. "You seem to almost embody some of the things we're scorned for, you accept others and almost cut our bond for one I can't even recall anyone complaining about before."

Hawke smiles. "Alright, that's fair. I just don't want you to hide things because you think I'll be upset about them. Fair?"

Estelle gives a relieved smile. "Thank you, that's very fair. I'll try to think on it, but I- oh! Incest. That's a problem most people have, right? I mean, we don't even have a word for it..."

"Uh." She says blankly, her expression faraway. "It's not something I've ever been interested in, but also my blood family is awful." She thinks for a minute longer before her face lights up a bit. "Oh! Yeah, I'm okay with incest." _Lux and Nox at the same time is basically incest plus one, right?_ "I suppose like anything else, it depends on the context."

"I suppose that makes sense," Estelle says after a moment. "It's rare for it to happen between generations, but it's thought the intimacy can help prevent... infighting among sisters. And of course, the males are hardly likely to complain," she adds with an eyeroll and a slightly smug gesture at her lush body. "Before marrying, I certainly never minded spending time with my sisters. It... bothers Claudia, I think, so I never asked if she would mind." She sounds a little wistful, a little regretful, about it, but not resentful.

"You do realize it's possible for a male to be uninterested, right?" Hawke chuckles. "I've been told no, even by my anchor partner, and he almost never says no to anyone. Granted, it was special circumstances, but.."

"Well, yes, but the odds of a female asking on that rare moment they're not up for it is... slim," Estelle says with a shrug. "It's not hard to change their minds anyway. Just have to..." She leans forward, the opening of her robe parting to show a generous amount of the slope of her breasts. "Or..." She leans back, causing the hem of her robe to rise enough that the junction of her thighs can just barely not be seen. "Some of the gnomish males will get flustered and cry off, but I've never seen a drow male do so. Of course, that's to be expected, given the... heat of drow passion," she remarks offhandedly.

"Really? That's a drow trait? I had no idea." She mulls it over. "Both the merikos drow I've taken to bed have been very eager, so I suppose it might be."

"Not every drow," Estelle allows. "But we are a very... lusty bunch." Rather proud of it too, from her tone. "Some of the gnomes at Robijin claim it's because drow have lived too long underground without anything fun to do each each other. Personally, I think it's just that we're all. So. Damn. Hot," she purrs wickedly, arching her back a touch, which finally flashes Hawke for just a second.

Hawke lets out a low, lusty groan. "You're a cruel mistress," she teases.

Estelle smiles, slow and wicked. "Oh you have no idea, mio dolce falco," she whispers, eyes locked on Hawke's face.

For whatever reason, that makes Hawke laugh. "You really are just like my Wicked Warrior," she says, a fond smile on her face.

Estelle drops back into the seat with a pout. "Laughter is... not the desired reaction," she grumbles, folding her arms and huffing almost childishly.

"I'm sorry, it's just, that's _exactly_ what my Zevran would do." She shakes her head. "I should go get some rest."

"And how is this Zevran?" Estelle asks, then blinks. _Wait. Zevran? Zevran... why is that familiar?_ Another blink. "Who, I mean. Well, also how, if you happen to know," she asks with a near instinctive leer.

"When I spoke to my wife last night, she assured me he was doing well. Zevran is my anchor; I'd have married him as well if he wanted it, but he doesn't. One of the two merikos drow I was talking about. He's a charmer, and one of the best lays in Nyra."

_A merikos drow! No, there's no chance... I must have the name wrong._ "Well, but of course- given his blood, he could be no less," Estelle says smoothly, then pauses. "Marry him as well?"

She nods. "Turns out that's legal in Nyra if you're smart about it. Oh, I never explained to you about my Clan, have I? It works a lot differently than your familia."

"But to a-" Estelle shakes her head. "It is bizarrely easy to see you as drow," she half complains. "Sorry, you were saying about your Clan?" _Multiple marriages? How... interesting. It's a shame Claudia is not very adventurous in this manner... She's not even taken any of our harem to bed as far as I know, or even one of our Famiglia young enough that it would not be taken amiss._

She nods. "So, what we do, we don't really put restrictions on things. It sounds like your familia is centered around a matriarch and then a bunch of submissive or subordinate members?"

"There are more complexities than that, but I suppose your words are not wrong, per se," Estelle allows. "It's famiglia, however," a subtle change to the last syllable.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Famiglia? Alright. Anyway, in my Clan, we're all equal. Or, I should say... I suppose there are tiers, really. I don't know how to compare how much I love someone, but I can compare how much time I spend with them. I am the matriarch. There's my innermost Clan members -- the people I live with, from time to time. My wife, my papa, Zevran, Aveline. Then there's the outer Clan members: Isabela, Wynne, Seli, Andy. Then there's non-Clan people who are nevertheless dear to me, like Nox and Lux. And there's everyone else." She shrugs. "We don't restrict who can fuck who, or who can love who. I'm with almost everyone except Papa sexually, that's a large part of how I relate to people. Merrill is with Zevran and Seli. Zevran is with everyone, but me and Merrill more so. Isabela is with everyone. Aveline is only with me." For now. "It's a big complicated web, but we all try to do right by each other and abide by the Clan Words: Honesty, Openness, and Trust. Without those principles, none of this would work out."

Estelle listens intently, repeating the word 'tiers' to herself a few times, as if to memorize it. "That is remarkably drow-like in many ways," she says after Hawke finishes. "For us, the Matriarch is the beating heart, the anchor, and the ruler all in one. Her Heir comes next, then the Heirs Tertiary, which consists of the sisters and first born daughter of the Heir. In theory, the Matriarch has absolute power over the Famiglia, but in practice they are bound by both tradition and the need to have the support of her Famiglia Primaria at the least, and her Famiglia Secondaria for good measure. In... typical drow cultures, tradition is laid out by," again, that grasping gesture from before, "and support from your Famiglia Primaria and Secondaria is gained by blackmail, coercion, enthrallment, threats, favor bartering and bribery." Her words come fast and excited- she's clearly pleased to be able to share this, explain this, to someone.

She wrinkles her nose. "Thankfully, we've moved beyond that at the Enclave. But anyway. Famiglia Primaria is the Matriarch and her Heirs, including the Tertiary ones. Famiglia Secondaria includes the daughters, sisters, and wives of the Famiglia Primaria. Then there's the Famiglia Nota, which is... basically anyone else that the Matriarch claims as family that isn't already part of a tier- it can and does, in our Famiglia, include those that, strictly speaking, aren't blood relations nor married to one." She takes a deep breath, then drains the last of the wine in her glass.

Hawke nods. "I should probably clarify, I don't unilaterally make decisions on behalf of my Clan or anything. In fact, I can't; legally, Aveline can overrule me on major life decisions, and she and Merrill can both spend my money independently and sign things on my behalf, as long as it's not Light business. And practically speaking, I don't do thing Papa wouldn't approve of. Or Zevran."

"Ah, that sounds almost closer to how the gnomes run their Famiglia," Estelle notes. "We are much less.. authoritative than drow are traditionally, but the gnomes are even less so. In fact, they _elect_ their matriarch each time one retires. From among Matriarch's family, but still. Very strange... it created quite a stir when it was first established."

She shrugs. "I don't see it as strange. After all, it ensures the best person for the job gets it, since everyone knows them really well and can pick."

"But it also means that you can't ensure the future Matriarch was given the best possible training. Unless you try do give _everyone_ the best training, which is either impossible or a horrific overuse of resources," Estelle counters, sounding like she's rather enjoying the debate. She rises, hips swaying hypnotically. Glancing over her shoulder, she asks, "care for a glass of wine?" gesturing with her own empty glass as if to clarify.

Hawke shakes her head. "I should go get some sleep. Talk more tomorrow?"

Estelle hesitates, for a long moment, then nods. "I would love to. Breakfast at eighth bell?"

"I'll be there," she promises, heading from the room.

And an hour after that, having made Merrill promise to tell Zevran how much she loves him, she almost manages to get some time to cry before Isabela comes to play. _Later_ , she promises herself. _I'll feel sad about not getting to be with Estelle later._

\---

The following morning, there's a knock on Hawke's door, nice and early. After only a few second of waiting, then the door opens. Estelle enters wearing the same silk robe from last night, but her hair is down and loose. She's evidently in a good mood, based on her smile, bouncy gait- which is all sorts of interesting to watch- and cheery hello. "Morning Hawke!" Estelle calls out brightly as she saunters across the room towards Hawke and Isabela.

Hawke sits up, naked, running her fingers through her hair to settle it into something resembling order. She smiles when she sees Estelle, enjoying the sights at least. "Good morning," she says, brightly.

"Mmrg." mumbles Isabela into the pillow.

Estelle beams a smile, then falters a second. "And good morning Isabela," she adds a touch belatedly, eyes flicking to Hawke to check her reaction.

Hawke's smile brightens a touch. Good, definitely the right tactic.

Isabela drags her head off the pillow with a yawn, pushing herself up enough to reveal her own nudity. "It can't be eight bell yet," she groans.

"Seems like morning to me," shrugs Hawke, sliding out of bed since she's on the non-wall side. She stretches, as Isabela gropes on the floor for her panties.

"You are a wonder," the captain mutters.

"Long practice," Hawke agrees.

Estelle rather openly looks Hawke over for a few seconds, then turns her attention to Isabela, giving off the impression that she's being polite in doing so somehow. "It's a little before seven bell," Estelle supplies. "I was wondering if you'd care- you'd both care to join me for a bath," she explains, eyes flicking to Hawke's face again at her correction. Wait- bath? On the ship? Sure, Isabela's prized Decanter could provide the water but space is somewhat of a premium so...

"I would _love_ a bath, but how are we getting one on the ship?" Hawke wonders.

Estelle smirks a little. "And you a Nyran," she says teasingly, relaxing a hair at Hawke's reply. "I have a magic tub." Well, that's... neat, even if the sheer luxury of such a thing is likely making Anders growl unknowing of the reason.

"I didn't grow up rich," she points out. "But I'm definitely buying one as soon as I get back, that's for sure."

Isabela shakes her head blearily. "Normally I'd be all for it, but I ought to check in with the men. Hawke?"

As Bela stands, Hawke reaches out and taps her shoulder, giving her a brief clean. "Thanks, luv," says the captain, with a small yawn.

"No problem. I just wish I could pull an Aveline, too."

"An Aveline?" Estelle asks curiously, watching Isabela move about as she gets dressed. It's a very appreciate staring, but far too blatant to be close to polite even if Bela was dressed already.

"Her touch can erase fatigue, as if I'd slept the night through instead of.. well." She gives Isabela a fond smile. "I can only clean things." Hawke doesn't bother with clothes; she pulls on a bathrobe instead, leaving her clothes from yesterday strewn across the floor (or, in one garment's case, knotted in a ball on the foot of the bed).

"Ah, a paladin," Estelle says knowingly. "One of my other guards is sworn to Junon and has a similar ability. She gives Isabela a sly smile. "And yes, your Isabela is well worth losing some sleep over," she comments, giving Hawke a slight bow.

"Don't I know it," laughs Hawke.

Isabela pouts. "I'm hardly _her_ Isabela. I'm Isabela's Isabela."

Estelle pauses, taken aback. "I... I apologize, I did not mean to indicate ownership, merely... association? Her offering you... patronage? I think that's the right word? Support and... caring and such." Her eyes dart back to Hawke, asking for help.

"I knew what you meant. Isabela's just... touchy about that sort of thing," says Hawke, a bit gently.

Isabela finishes tugging her boot on and straightens. "She's not my patron either. Isabela supports herself. I simply choose to associate with her."

"Frequently," teases Hawke.

"To our mutual benefit," Isabela concludes.

Estelle bows- very, very slightly but still, she offers Isabela a bow. "Please forgive my offense then," she says carefully.

"Forgiven," Isabela says airily before kissing Hawke on the cheek. "Have a good bath."

Hawke squeezes the captain's butt on her way out. "Have a good... captain stuff."

Estelle, taking Isabela at her word, catches her as she passes by as well. "Perhaps I could finish making it up to you tonight?" the drow offers huskily, hand tracing down the captain's arm. "If you don't already have plans, I mean?"

Isabela's eyelids lower as she appraises Estelle. "Sounds like a plan," she purrs.

Estelle winks, her hand drifting from Isabela's arm to her hip for a second. "I even have a surprise for you, a toy we haven't tried yet," she murmurs softly before turning back to Hawke. "So about that bath?"

_Is this why people give me weird dirty looks all the time? All that sex talk, and them not invited?_ muses Hawke to herself. _It's almost enough to make a girl jealous. If I ever got jealous. Which I don't._ Hawke smiles, linking arms with Estelle as they depart.

Estelle seems pleased enough at the gesture, chatting idly about her preferences in bathing as they head back to her room. She doesn't even seem to notice the glances the pair get from the surprisingly and suddenly busy hallway full of crew members. Reaching her door, Estelle knocks, then lets herself in without much of a pause. The room is empty, save for a basin that looks barely big enough for Estelle, much less both of them. And how she'd have expected to get Isabela in there as well would involve breaking not just legalities but physics.

Which makes sense, given she said it was magical.

"Did... did I offend? With Isabela, I mean. Either of you," she asks softly once the door is closed.

Hawke shrugs. "You may have? But you didn't say anything generally considered to be rude. Isabela hates being tied down, or feeling like she's not free to leave whenever she wishes. Our relationship has been rocky at times, and it's only the promise that I won't ever make her stay that makes it possible for her to come back when she leaves, I think. But that's not a culture thing, that's specifically Isabela."

Estelle looks a bit dumbfounded at Hawke's reply, coming to a stop for a moment. "That's... very strange. I don't think I've ever met anyone- other than her, obviously- that has had that... particular, ah, feature?" She shakes her head a little. "But how I... interacted with her? That was... okay? I mean, I got the impression that you want me to address your, well, evidently she's not part of your harem? But..." By the time she finishes talking, she looks even more perplexed.

"It's generally considered extremely rude in Nyran culture not to speak to someone you know when you see them somewhere, and somewhat rude not to give at least a greeting or nod in passing to people you don't know. Ignoring them is a way of indicating that you are pretending they do not exist, usually because you're angry about something. It's generally polite to address the highest-ranked person first, but you do address everyone." Her tone is gentle; she doesn't try to put any particular emphasis on it.

"Okay, I thought that was... how it worked but I wasn't sure," Estelle says with some relief. She glances at Hawke, then offers, "if... if you ever happen to... well, for a drow culture, talking to the harem of a Matriarch you don't have a _official_ , declared friendship without the Matriarch or one of her Famiglia Primaria making an introduction and giving permission is considered rude. It's also rude, but much less so, to talk to anyone that is not Famiglia Primaria or Secondaria without permission. Well, aside from orders or practical questions. It's considered a slight to the Matriarch- and possibly an attempt to undermine their authority or worse, that you're attempting to subvert them. Our Enclave makes allowances for outsiders, but..."

Hawke nods. "Culture is weird, isn't it? I hear that in Glaley, you're not supposed to address anyone noble unless you've been introduced by a third party you both know, and there's a sophisticated system of rules about who is presented to whom when making introductions. Apparently they fight duels over getting that kind of thing wrong."

Estelle nods, then offers a wry smile as she heads over the tub. "Less duels and more... assassinations, midnight invasions and sabotage for us... well, again, not anymore. Exactly. We've established... lesser forms of that. Assassinations and kidnapping are illegal- actually illegal, not just on paper." She flips open a small leather covered box filled with dozens of vials, then pauses. "Do you have a preferred scent? How about bubbles or foam?"

"I like bubbles, and anything but roses is good for scents. If you have salts, those are good too."

"Bubbles, lavender salts and... hmmm," she glances at Hawke for a moment. "Perhaps a few drops of peppermint oil? Have you ever tried such?"

"Peppermint? I have not, though I do enjoy a good peppermint tea."

"Have you ever had any kind of mint lotion or cream? It's... very refreshing, but some find it displeasing," Estelle says. "I enjoy a little... bite to my fun and leisure, but so do not." As she explains this, she flips open a second tray and pulls out a much larger bottle and opens it. "Hold out your arm?"

Hawke slides her robe off and obeys. "I suspect I won't enjoy it, I'm not one for rough play normally."

Estelle doesn't hide her wandering gaze, nor how she wets her lips slightly. "No? That's a shame... may I ask why? Is it that you've not tried it with someone experienced or...?" As she asks, she drips a few drops of oil on Hawke's fingers. "Give that a minute, and if you like the sensation, dab a little on your nipples or folds to see if you like it on more sensative flesh."

A shadow crosses her face. "I had a bad experience." After a moment, she adds, "I do enjoy games, though."

Estelle's eyes soften a little. "If... if you ever have a chance to lay with someone from Robijn, be sure to mention, upfront and firmly, that you do not enjoy any degree of bite or snap to your play. Such things are... very, very common, even among the gnomes and merikos. What do you think of the oil?"

She manages to -- mostly -- contain the flinch at the word 'bite'. "Will do. The oil is... surprisingly refreshing." She runs her fingers across her nipple, shivering a little as the oil makes contact.

Estelle notes the flinch but doesn't comment on it directly. "Give it a few moments while I add salts and the bubbles," she recommends. "I... I was... thinking, last night. After our... talk," she says, back to Hawke as she busies herself with the case and vials within. "We've already been to four villages and I'm pretty well sold on supporting the treaty. Was before we left really," she says frankly.

"You want to cut the trip short?" Hawke looks at the closed door, away from Estelle, but keeps her tone neutral.

"...not... exactly. I was wondering if you'd mind if we- if you'd like a tour of home. Robijn Enclave, I mean," she says diffidently, pouring a few things in the bathwater. Interestingly, when she reaches her hand across the lip, it distorts slightly, as if in a heat haze.

"I would be honored," she says, and she sounds earnest, and a bit relieved.

Estelle turns, her expression deeply pleased and relieved before she dims it to a more demure level. "Really? Oh wonderful. I looked over the map and we can stop at four more villages- one on the way there, then three on the way back and still be able to stay at the Enclave for six days. Is that okay?"

"Sounds great. Which four?" she asks, curious. "I'd hoped to stop by Raplin's Oak, but if it's not on the way, I can go another time."

"Raplin's Oak... I don't think that was one... but it was nearish... we could probably skip one of the others to visit if you liked?" Estelle offers, then pauses. "Wait... why do I- Wait. Raplin? Isn't he... I mean... will that.. be alright? For me to visit?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asks, curiously. _She's only a kind of elf, it's not like she's a devil or something._ "I liked Raplin's Oak last time I was there; I wanted to introduce you to one of his Daughters."

"Most people are not a tenth as... accepting or kind as you are, Hawke," she says almost tenderly. "I have faith in my ability to protect myself, especially with the help I have at hand, but against a deity? Even a minor one? That... does not seem wise. But I could simply wait on the ship for the night, it would not be a hardship," she assures Hawke as she finishes doctoring the bathwater."

"Why would a deity be opposed to you? Shouldn't he be able to see what's in your heart?" She sighs, shaking her head. "I suppose I could see if my friend is willing to meet you on the ship, if you feel so strongly about it."

"Well... perhaps you can ask and see if they would mind," Estelle compromises. "In the mean time," she slides her robe off and turns to face Hawke. "I... assume bathing like this is unusual?"

"Public bath-houses abound in Coalside," she says, shrugging. "And I frequently bathe with my paramours at Voice."

"Oh, I didn't realize it was... color me surprised then," Estelle says happily, then frowns. "And also a touch annoyed. I made mention of it back in Nyra and got... almost politely informed such was not done. In Robijn, we don't really have private baths, at all. Bathing alone is only done if one is ill or in a great rush. Bathing is a very social activity, a chance to deepen bonds. For friends, for lovers, for family, even for mere allies or comrades." As she speaks, she steps into the tub quickly. "The spatial expansion can be disorienting to stand in, so I suggest crossing quickly." Estelle doesn't look comically smaller or anything, but she's not taking up nearly as much as space as she should in the sized tub Hawke's eyes tell here is present.

Hawke turns toward the tub, moving over to it. "Recall what I said about Coalside. Social bathing is a lower-class activity, one popularized by catfolk, so the upper-class won't do it. They were probably trying to save you from embarrassment." She steps over the rim in a fluid motion. Now there's plenty of space, enough for perhaps four people, or six if they don't mind pressing against each other. The room around them is now covered in that same half-there heat shimmer, but otherwise looks normal.

"I... suppose that's possible," Estelle allows, unused to giving people the benefit of the doubt. "Do you... wish to have space or will touching bother you?"

Hawke smirks. "I'm a fan of touching."

Estelle smirks back, gesturing at the space next to her. "This... isn't an invitation to... more," she says quietly. "I... in time, I hope Claudia becomes more confident in herself, in her worth to me, that she realizes I won't leave her but..." She sighs a little. "In time..."

"In time." Hawke agrees. "Oh, I'll be able to meet her -- maybe she'd be comfortable with a threesome?"

Estelle stiffens for a second, posture showing offense and anger- but only for a second, when understanding and chagrin rushes in. "Ah. No. Not this trip at least, nor for years to come," Estelle says very, very firmly.

"I'm sorry, was that offensive in your culture?" asks Hawke, concern in her eyes.

"No- well, it was a bit more direct than you could have been. Don't ask to bed my Grandmother or her wife. Ah, I mean the Matriarch or her Famiglia Primaria. That would be rather rude, yes, unless you're declared a friendly Famiglia officially. But in private like this, given how clear it is that I like you? A little forward, not rude. No, I was upset because..." Estelle winces a little, hesitating, then sighs. "Hear me out before you get upset or decide something?" she finally asks softly.

"I'm often a little forward, so that's alright." She sits back against the rim of the tub, studying Estelle before she gives a slow nod. "I will do my best. As a warning, if the tub gets cold, you'll want to shut up and give me a moment to center myself."

"That's... both convenient and somewhat worrying," Estelle says after staring a moment at the merikos elf a few inches to her right. "Okay. First of all, my marriage to Claudia was arranged. She's the niece of their current Matriarch, the only female of her generation. Last generation, the gnomish Matriarch's daughter married the Heir of the Moneillos Famiglia. The generation before, they married into the Tevaidas Famiglia. I'm sure you can see the pattern? It's a deliberate effort to try and draw the four drow Famiglias closer to the Robijn Famiglia."

"Alright," she says, slowly. "That sounds like typical politics."

"Well... elves and gnomes have roughly the same lifespan, so that's fine. But... the current Robijn Famiglia Matriarch's sister is a merikos gnome. Which... makes things... complicated and..." Estelle sighs and just says, "Claudia and I haven't done more than kiss. And won't do more for the next three or so years when she comes of age."

"Ah," she says, the syllable imbued with meaning. She closes her eyes, the water perfectly warm. "Did I ever tell you when I found out how old my wife was? It was well after our first sexual encounter, and still a few months shy of her coming of age. I was livid. Nyrans don't play with things like that. But it sounds like you're doing the right thing."

Estelle flushes a little. "Yes, it's... unusual for drow as well, though strangely not for gnomes. Evidently, arranged marriages are fairly common, and often done when the wives are prepubescent. In truth, by our customs, the two of us are not exactly wed, but rather betrothed, as it's not yet consummated. By gnomish tradition, the contract was enough, even if she's still a child by both our standards." The drow offers a wan smile. "The situation is... very awkward, for both of us and others. Thank you for being understanding."

"Of course." She nods. "You seem to be a good person, Estelle. I always try to give the benefit of the doubt, but in your case, it's not difficult."

The drow's cheeks darken slightly as she glances down at Hawke's breasts for a moment. And then another moment, because they're worth it. "That's... not something often said about me. Or any of my race. Thank you. Okay, enough of making me blush, your turn. We can't have sex, but I do like seeing you naked. And I'd love to wash your back and have the favor returned. Will not being able to do more than that sort of thing be to much for you? I enjoy tease and deny but it can be very frustrating."

"I did just spend all night working out the last bout of frustration," she teases. "Seems like it's time to start building the next. For Isabela's sake, if nothing else. I entirely wore her out."

Estelle bites her lip, then offers, "if you wanted something... different, I noticed Toren eyeing you rather appreciatively. I'm sure he wouldn't turn you down if you asked." _Well, after I pull him aside and tell him you have permission to sleep with him anyway._

"Really?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "I might take you up on that." _Though it would be weird -- I wonder if he'd feel like he can talk to me, or just silently... yeah, this might not happen._ "Any rules I should be aware of?"

"Don't ask him anything about me or... politics? I've never really asked about his preferences," she replies with a shrug. Then, realizing how that might sound, she quickly adds, "it's considered a fool's choice to lay with your bodyguards. It can create... issues with them being able to perform their duties. But if- oh, you'll probably want to tell him that protocol can be ignored. Unless you want him to act the role of the fucktoy?" Estelle asks curiously.

"Ah." she says -- not a sound of understanding. In fact, quite the opposite. "I'm going to go with no. Probably definitely no. I'm going to regret asking, but what's a fucktoy in this context?"

Estelle shifts a little, considering how to phrase it. "Exactly as it sounds, I suspect. In your bed for you, your pleasure, not his. Acting as you wish him. It... Toren is old enough that his mothers lived below ground. He was raises rather... traditionally. For most males these days, it's more an act, almost a game. For myself, if I wish a fucktoy, I have an entire chest of them in various shapes, sizes, colors and styles. Sweet and docile, yes, but not... like a construct."

"Yeah, that's never been something I wanted." She pauses, then adds, "I only have toys for two, myself."

"Oh, I have many of those as well," Estelle says with lidded eyes. "But I also enjoy the wand style, as an alternative to fingering. I even have two that can animate and... work on their own, in case my hands are busy."

"I wouldn't have a use for that kind of thing," the elf replies with a shrug.

"They can be used with a partner, you realize," Estelle says with an amused smile. "I rarely bother with a toy if I just want to get myself off for whatever reason. Most of the time it's because I'm stressed and there's no-one around I care to ask for help from. Not a common thing, given how tightly knit my Famiglia is. Plus, my status, body and skill are... appealing to most."

"Many of my good friends are whores, not to mention my various lovers. If I want sex, I seek someone out. Zevran suggested I get a toy to use on Merrill while her hands were bound, that's the only reason I bought any."

"...bound?" Estelle asks lightly, eyes gleaming.

"Oh yes. Zevran taught us that one. And the 'don't touch' game. And blindfolding." She grins.

_That certainly sounds like... oooh, mother, would it kill you to return a message in any kind of haste?_ "Well... we can't have sex... but perhaps Isabela wouldn't mind if you happened to watch me, ah, practice some of my favorite bindings on her? Perhaps while Toren slowly fucks you from behind?"

Her face lights up. "We can do that? I'd love to!"

"She wasn't thrilled with me watching or being watched but..." Estelle shrugs helplessly. "Given our utter lack of taboo on sex in public, it just wasn't tenable. The third time I had to flee a room because one of my sisters starting fucking someone to chase me out, Claudia conceded the point." She smirks. "Not like she can complain, given how much she likes to watch me have sex."

"She does? Maybe she'd be interested in watching us together more than she'd be-- ah, but I'll have to ask her directly, I know." _I would have guessed watching would be taboo for one her age, but I can't see the harm in it if she's not being forced._ "That sounds like a wicked fun afternoon." There's a pause as she considers. "You know, my wife likes sex in public. I wonder if it's an elven thing?"

"That would be...nice," Estelle allows, licking her lips and giving Hawke's body a head-to-toe stare. "You know, you sound more and more like one of us the longer we talk. Well, a... kinder, less regal drow anyway."

"Thank you," she says warmly.


	3. Twelve Minutes Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke's deceptions are revealed, with predictable results.

It was almost sunset at Hawke's house, and that meant people were in the parlor. During the hero's absence, Zevran had begun spending every evening he could at Merrill's place, waiting for a word from his beloved. And while he won't admit that's why, Varric has begun coming over for dinner so frequently, it's clear what he's after.

Rather than force him to miss out on an evening at Hawke's for their usual conversation session, Helene had been glad to come over for dinner themself. So when the message ring activated, all four of them were sitting in the parlor, Helene doing a sketch of Silence as they waited. The blue-skinned, child-bodied oracle had grown closer and closer to Zevran as time went on, and therefore, closer and closer to becoming Clan, even if they still have a hero-worship mentality toward Hawke.

"Good evening, my loves," said Hawke's disembodied voice, coming from the magic ring on Merrill's finger. She sounded a little strange -- distant, tired, and happy. "Sorry I'm a bit late tonight."

_Precisely twelve minutes,_ thinks Helene, unsure if they should speak up.

"Hawke! Hello! Did the Siren crash? Is everyone okay? Is Isabela okay? You don't sound hurt but you do sound tired? But also happy? Oh! You were sexing Isabela? Is that why you're late?"

"It is fine, ma fleur lointaine. We are just happy to speak with you."

"Hey Hawke. How's Lamiae?"

"Hello, no, yes, yes and she says hi, I'm tired, I did just finish having sex -- though not with Isabela, but I won't say more now, hi Papa -- and yes that's why I'm late. Lamiae is good, we're leaving tonight. I may as well tell you now we're changing our itinerary, so you don't have to ask Roberto." She's been playing 'guess the spy' for over a week now, with no luck thus far.

"Do I know a Roberto?" a voice asks curiously. Varric is smirking rather broadly as he exchanges a look with Zevran, who just rolls his eyes.

"Oh, keeping us in suspense? Such a wicked woman we love," a voice teases her.

"You met someone new? Are they nice? Is it your new friend Estelle? You said she's pretty and nice and fun. Are we still going out for a date when you get back?" a bubbly voice, well, babbles.

"We are definitely going out for a date -- I'd actually like you to come visit her sometime. Well, assuming I like the place first. That's where we're headed, by the way: Robijin Enclave, to visit her home and meet her wife."

Helene looks up, startled, breaking the tip of their pencil. _Isn't that...?_

"Oh that sounds-"

"Hawke are you out of your fucking mind?"

"What? What is she doing?"

Zevran surges to his feet at Varric's automatic response, not entirely sure what's going on but, well, Varric doesn't react like that for small things.

"Visiting Drow!" Helene pauses, then sheepishly adds, "This is Helene. Hello Hawke." Another pause. "Are you wearing your stole?"

"And what's wrong with that?" Hawke's tone takes on a dangerous glint.

There's a riot of answers, none of them intelligible but all of them very, very firm. Finally, there's a strange noise. Like a mix of wet slapping and a squelching sound. It's followed by a flurry of spitting and faint choking noises, all of them drawn out and almost echoing.

"Hawke, are you still there? What's going on? Oh and Helene asked if you were wearing your stole? In case they got shouted over and you missed it." Thankfully, Helene was being polite and not shouting, so their very nice clothes get to remain free of magical mud. Not that it leaves stains or anything after the duration runs out, but Merrill would still feel bad about messing them up for even a little while.

"What's happened?" she demands. "Is everything okay?"

Helene climbs to their feet, lifting the sketchbook carefully away from any and all mud; they had been laying across the floor to sketch better, but they're growing increasingly concerned about the stability of pretty much everyone in this Clan. "Lady Hawke used mud to stop Lord Tethras and Madam Zevvy from doing any damage," Helene reports.

Merrill sniffs softly, the sound both an attempt at sounding snobbish and because she's trying not to cry. "Well, I tried to ask what's going on four times and they just keep shouting and- Hawke, are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine!" Hawke sighs, lowering the volume of her voice as she does, trying to get the note of hysteria out as well. "I'm going to visit a friend. There's no call for that kind of reaction. Estelle is a lovely woman, and I'm sure her wife and famiglia are just as lovely."

"She sounds nice, from what you've said before" Merrill offers weakly. "Is she really drow?" Her tone seems to be that of someone just confirming things. _There's this big giant thing about drow and elves evidently, but I don't really remember hearing about it much when I was younger. Well, other than the time Mealinne spread that rumor that my parents were drow and I was some kind of sleeper agent. But the Elders stomped on that pretty quickly. Which was strange, given they never cared what was said about me before. Oh. I guess drow really are a big deal at Golden Green... Huh. Wonder why no-one ever explained it to me?_

The two males in the room are still working on clearing their faces of sticky mud but Zevran is glaring blindly at Merrill already. Or possibly the ring she's wearing.

"Yes, she is. And has been the entire time, might I add. I didn't think it was important." Hawke sounds put-out, but under that there's a current of fear.

"Hawke, why are you afraid?" Merrill asks, voice tight as she frets at the sleeve of her dress.

Varric has managed to clear his mouth enough to talk thanks to the noble sacrifice of his mug of ale, but goes silent at Merrill's question. Zevran on the other hand, instead growls for a second, then has to spit out a mouthful of mud.

"I'm not," the hero replies, sounding no less nervous. "Why are you all freaking out about this? I didn't think any of you were..."

"Nervous then," Merrill insists. "Please, I don't understand why people are getting upset and it's making me upset!" Her tone as shifted from 'curious and worried' to 'outright pleading and distraught.'

Zevran flinches, an expression of shame and self-loathing hidden by the coating of mud on his face.

"That's why I'm upset!" she echoes. "I didn't think Papa and Zevran would... I've made a mess of this and I don't even understand how."

Merrill's eyes narrow and fixes the two menfolk with hard looks. "Explain," she demands, hands going to hips.

Varric coughs, glances at Zevran and then mentally sighs. The drow's mouth is still slightly glued shut by the mud and he's stopped trying to clear it off. _Might be distracted or whatever, but little shits probably tossing me under the dragon and making me go first._ "I- I was mostly just- Okay, for one, there's a big fucking difference between 'one drow friend' and 'entire town filled with drow.' You and Flirty can handle yourselves pretty well, but those are bad odds if things go sour."

"Why would they go sour? These are _surface_ Drow, Varric. They're good people."

"You don't know that, Hawke. Just being born on the surface doesn't make them good," Varric replies carefully. "Drow aren't evil because of blood or location, it's their culture and religion. They're famous for their cruelty, oppression and ability to deceive with good reason. I've run into drow before Hawke, this isn't coming from rumors and tavern tales." He takes a deep breath. "Granted, I don't know the ones where you're going. They might well be good people. I don't know. But they might not be and the odds aren't great."

"We've been sharing stories of our cultures this whole time, Varric. I understand their culture. It's not the most respectful toward lower-class individuals, but it's certainly better than Glaley, and that's a human city."

"Okay, in fairness, I'd be more upset if you were going to Glaley with just Isabela to watch your back," Varric says honestly. "Place is a shit-hole."

"Hawke, I thought- we talked about this. I will admit that merikos raised by non-drow can be very good people, yes. But drow raised by drow? Hawke, how could you hide this?" Zevran demands, unable to stay quiet anymore, especially as it sounds like Varric might be backing off.

"Hide this? You never asked!" Hawke takes a deep, audible breath. "I didn't think you'd be this way about it or I'd have said something earlier. But I know Estelle. She's a good person, and her people are good people."

"I didn't think I'd have to ask! Not about something like this!" Zevran snaps. "I'll keep in mind that I have to ask if you've some damn fool plan to merrily walk yourself into a trap. I didn't realize I had to ask you to find out you're walking into a pit of slavers, murderers and rapists!" His voice is scathing, filled with fury and a core of slick fear that borders on hysteria.

Merrill lets out a soft gasp and takes a step back from the increasing irrational merikos drow. "That's enough!" Varric barks out, moving over towards Merrill.

Helene presses themself back against the wall, clinging to their sketchbook tightly. "Th-th-this one would-also prefer if th-the Hero is not w-walked into a den of..." Helene swallows, trying to get command of their voice again.

"Fine. You know what? Fine. I could have been having more sex right now, but I called home to talk to my Clan. If you're just going to shout at me, I'm going back to Estelle's room."

"That might be a good idea," Varric says, cutting Zevran off. "I think we all need to cool off- aside from Moonbeam," he allows, "and maybe we can talk about this properly tomorrow."

"But she just-"

"Zevran, do _not_ fuck up like I did," Varric growls, causing the ex-assassin's mouth to snap shut.

"Can _we_ talk some more?" Merrill asks in a tiny voice. "Alone?"

"Why, so you can shout at me as well?" snaps Hawke, before instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry, Merrill, that was uncalled for, I just... We can talk, but I need to be away from Zevran right now."

Helene just stares now, mouth dry, hugging their notebook.

"That's fine, I think I would like to go as well," Zevran says coldly, striding out of the room.

Varric mutters an oath, then tosses off a "I'll try and talk to him Hawke. Just... be careful and talk to Merrill everyday alright?" without waiting for a reply.

Merrill sniffs loudly, then glances at Helene. "Are you going to yell too?" she asks a touch crossly. "Or be mean?

Helene does neither; they burst into tears, chasing after Madamn Zevvy with their head bowed.

Merrill's eyes widen and shame fills her. "...I didn't mean to... I..." She starts to cry, quietly asking, "Hawke, I don't understand, what just happened? Why did- why is everyone- what happened?"

"I don't know," she says quietly. Her voice sounds tired, sad, and small. "Racism, I suppose."

"I don't like it," Merrill says mulishly. "Zevran is being mean and stupid and now I can't stop worrying about you and I shouldn't be, you know better now, you wouldn't let another Rosemary hurt you, you wouldn't I know that but I can't stop being afraid and I yelled at Helene and made her cry and and I miss you!" She takes a deep shuddering breath.

There's a pause of a few moments, then, "I miss you too."

"...tell me more about Estelle? If I know her better, maybe I can..." Merrill asks as she heads for their bedroom to curl up.

Peeking out from his hiding spot near the ceiling, Merrill's familiar Bob frowns, then nods. _Best to stay on hand myself. I'll send Silence with a message. The good Lady Aveline will be able to comfort mi'lady._

"She's wonderful, Merrill. She's intelligent and thoughtful and kind. She's eager to learn what Nyra is like, and eager to tell me about her people. And nobody ever gives her the benefit of the doubt. Everyone sees her skin and assumes she's evil."

Merrill smiles faintly. "She does sound nice. She... she sounds like me, a little. About how people don't... like me unless I try really hard to be normal," she whispers as she undresses quickly, wanting to get into bad right away.

"I like you," argues Hawke. "I meant it when I said I wanted to take you here to meet these people. Do you know, they have sex in public? It's just part of their culture to walk around naked and have sex when they please."

"I like you too," Merrill say softly as she slips into bed. "Love you too." A pause. "They can just walk around naked?"

"All the time," confirms Hawke.

\---

Helene doesn't know what to do, what to say, how to feel. Madam Zevvy was hurting, that much was certain. Madam Zevvy was also very, very angry. As a friend, Helene should help with that, but Helene doesn't know how to handle angry people, or people who are badly hurt, and Helene doesn't want to make it worse, and they can't stop crying, and...

So they follow, at a reasonable distance, hoping that inspiration will strike.

Varric is walking beside Zevran, not saying anything, just keeping him company as the merikos drow vents in a rapid pouring of rather curse-laden elven. They're heading towards Voice, which is good- it means they're not heading out of town or towards a fight. Probably As they turn a corner, Varric takes the opportunity to try and catch Helene's eye, nodding at them to help. Helene walks a little faster, until they are flanking Zevran, a bit behind, respectfully.

"-knows very well what- I've _told_ her. She's smarter than this- I _thought_ she was anyway. I can't believe she would do this. Didn't realize she should say something. _Bullshit_ ," Zevran rants, tone seething.

"M-Madam Zevvy? S-sir?" stammers Helene, in a very soft voice.

"Wha-" Zevran snaps, then visibly pulls himself back. "Yes Helene?" he says in a more even tone, though his hands still flex and clench at his sides.

"Is there-- can this one... is there anything this one can do?" Their knuckles are sky-blue on the edges of the sketchbook from how hard they're clinging to their comfort item.

"Can you-" Zevran's eyes light up. "Yes, actually, yes there is. You can scry for Hawke, right?"

Varric winces a little but lets it go. _Hawke allows me my watchers after all. If he goes too far, I'll step in, but for now, this is fine._

"Y-yes," they stammer. "This one has some skill in this area."

"Brilliant. Do you need anything for it? That you can't find at Voice?" Zevran asks rapidly.

They give a small nod. "This one's dwelling is nearby, this one has a mirror there. If the honored Madam Zevvy posesses any of Lady Sage zi'Hawke's hair or clothing, this one would make use of such things, but this one has a drawing..."

"I have plenty of mirrors at Voice- does it need to be special? She has a few changes of clothing there as well. Plus other odds and ends," Zevran says rapidly.

"It... it does not but... does this one... has this one offended? This one is trying to ensure the best experience.."

"What? No, _you're_ actually being _helpful_ ," he says, glaring at Varric. "I just want to save time, if we can avoid having to stop at your place."

"is.. is there a rush? This one didn't expect Lady Sage zi'Hawke to land until.."

Zevran starts to reply with a strong, passionate affirmative, then pauses. Is there a reason for undue haste? "Well... perhaps not, but I want to check on her. There's a drow there already, what if- what if she's been enchanted? Maybe if I see her, I'll be able to tell."

"Ah! This one can cast detection spells via scrying as easily as if the Lady Sage were physically present."

_This one? Why are they talking- wait, what do those have- ah!_ "Detection spells? DO you have one that will reveal compulsions or enchantments?" Zevran asks urgently.

"Ah, yes, this one can detect the school of any spell cast upon the Lady Sage."

"Brilliant. You're brilliant, Helene," Zevran says reaching over to pick them up and whirl them around. In fairness, this is a thing he's done with Merrill before.

Helene's eyes widen significantly. "Ah! This one is glad to be of use!" they cry, sounding more alarmed than glad.

Zevran pauses, then sets them down. "Apologies. That was a- a somewhat over the top demonstration of celebration," he explains, almost more from habit than anything else. "You alright?"

"Th-this one is-- This one is glad Madam Zevvy is feeling better."

Zevran blinks a few times. "Helene, are you alright?" he asks slowly.

"You mean aside from the fact that they're nearly panicking?" Varric asks from a few yards away. "And you almost hit me in the face with oracle."

"Th-this one is m-merely--" stammers Helene. "There was shouting," they whisper, looking ashamed.

Zevran winces, looking ashamed. "I... yes. There was a bit of... that, wasn't there," he says weakly. "I... suspect you, ah, haven't had to deal with that sort of thing much before. And..." not knowing what to do in a situation unsettles you a great deal, he leaves unsaid.

Helene shakes their head. "This one has been alone for a very long time. This one is not in the habit of shouting at this one's self."

"Oh Helene," he says softly. "You do know you can come over more often, right?" A second later and Zevran sighs. "No, of course you don't because I didn't tell you that you could. Helene, you can come by the Voice whenever you're lonely. I'm not the only one there that likes you," he says softly.

"...you're not?" asks Helene, fidgeting with their sketchbook nervously. "I can? I-- Understood." They give a firm nod, looking up, this time meeting his eyes for a moment before glancing away -- something rare outside of 'question mode'.

"Good. I...."He takes a breath, then another. "Okay. I'm sorry you have to... be in the middle of all this. Are... are you sure you're okay doing this scrying?" Zevran makes himself ask.

"Yes. This one-- I want to help. I am concerned about the Lady Sage. Drow are, present company excluded, very dangerous creatures."

"Thank you!" Zevran says, rather a touch too loudly. "You get it at least."

Groaning, Varric unpauses his work on coming up with contingency plans.

"Thank you," Zevran repeats. "Alright, to Voice. I have plenty of Hawke's things there, and we have dozens of mirrors."

Helene flinches back when he shouts, but nods, starting to lead the way. After a few steps, they add, timidly, "But... Lady Sage zi'Hawke is a hero."

"Granted and agreed?" Zevran replies, glancing at them.

"So... shouldn't she... know what she's doing by now? I am... confused as to how this happened?"

"Ah. Yes, well, Hawke is... a very loving, caring, forgiving-"

"Which will be important later."

"-shut it dwarf. Forgiving person. Sometimes, this leaves her open to... treachery and deceit, from those that take advantage of her heart," Zeran explains.

"I see," says Helene quietly. "Understood."

Twenty minutes later- five of which was begging for and then moving Raunzeal's far too expensive mirror to Zevran's bedroom. Varric spends most of this standing against the wall, practicing his apology to Hawke.

Zevran paces.

Helene finishes flipping through their sketchbook, finally settling on a picture of Hawke. It really doesn't matter which picture, they know, but... somehow it matters to Helene. This one was a three-quarters profile of her face, looking off at something in the distance... and looking more noble and majestic than Hawke can normally manage. It's also very detailed, as if Helene spent a long time on it.

Better than the one three pages back that caught Varric's eye. The one with Hawke wielding a familiar-looking crossbow, a look of intense fury and pain on her face.

Helene begins the spellcasting, murmuring the words. They lean over, breathing onto the mirror, and when the fog clears, they can see Hawke, reaching for the doorknob of a room on Isabela's ship.

"I will cast the detection now," announces Helene.

Hawke smiles to herself faintly as she opens the door - not because she feels genuinely glad, you understand, but because she wants to put on a good face for Estelle. She pushes open the door, closing it behind her as she takes in the scene.

"I see you've gotten to the toy stage," notes Hawke, gesturing to Estelle's flogger. She pauses to linger over the ropes criss-crossing Isabela's body -- not that the pirate wench can speak at the moment. Her mouth is a little, ah, occupied

Helene announces, "There is no unexpected enchantment upon--" before their eyes widen. _What... Isabela is having sex with... and what is that female doing... is she..._ An odd, low-pitched humming comes from the back of their throat, as they cling to their sketchbook, rocking back and forth on their heels, unable to turn their face from the mirror.

"Upon Hawke? She's not enchanted, you're-" Zevran, who had been boring holes into the mirror with his gaze, glances at Helene to see why they paused. "What? What's wrong?" he demands urgently.

Varric meanwhile has spun around to face the wall as he tries to force his gorge down. _Shite, shite, shite, I did not want- I was not expecting- damnit, that's seared right into-_ The dwarf, still gagging a bit, starts fumbling for his bag to get out his favorite wand.

"She's hurting her!" cries Helene, anguished.

"What?" Zevran's head snaps back around to the scrying mirror. "What? No, Hawke is still over by the door." And now naked. "Oh, you mean ma'Bela." He studies the scene before him for a moment, frowning. "No- well, yes, but in a good way. That's just some rough kink. Well, very rough." He pauses. "...does that mean anything to you?"

"Explain." Helene's voice is tight, and they haven't stopped rocking, not for a moment. Nor have they looked away from the scene.

_Well... oh sweet Ciren's smooth and taut asschecks, how do I..._ "Okay, do you know what a kink is? Not the 'twisted part of a rope' meaning, the other one?"

"Unconventional sexual tastes." Helene's tone is perfectly flat, as if trying too hard to mask hysteria. Their eyes widen. "Th-that is! Sex?!"

_Are they a virgin? I had thought they and Sharran had... perhaps not. Or perhaps they do not realize this counts as sex._ "It is, by most people's standards at least. Some do not consider it to be sex unless a penis goes into a vagina but they're almost always either ignorant or bigoted shitheads. It's shibari. Well, the rope part of it is. The... flogging is pain play- she's using a flogger with a merciful enchant, you can tell by the lack of blood. It'll cause pain and light bruising, but no actual wounds. Based on how they're behaving with each other, I suspect there's some dominance play going on as well- Isabela is being topped, or acting obedient and allowing the dom to take charge," he explains, slipping into somewhat recent but already deeply ingrained habits as an educator. And from talks with Helene. "If you look closely, you can see that Isabela's right hand is loose enough that she can snap her fingers. That's her preferred method of tapping out, or signaling that she needs a break, when her mouth is gagged. Or otherwise filled."

Helene stares a long moment, their rocking slowly quieting until they are standing still. "This is... those words are... familiar," they say, slowly. "This is... how Hawke prefers...?"

"Not... always. Sex is like food- it's rare that someone prefers to eat the same meal every day," Zevran explains. "This is... a rather bold, complex flavor."

"But-- but -- doesn't it hurt?"

"People like spicy food, do they not?" Zevran replies.

"Spicy food isn't slavery," they whisper. Louder, they add, "Explain. In detail, please and thank you."

Sla- "No, not slavery," Zevran says rapidly. "No more than a spar is true combat, or a performance of Two Souls Adrift actually like watching someone get raped, two children be hung and two provinces going to war with thousands of deaths implied off stage. That-" he gestures at the mirror. "Is a game. It's pretend. Remember what I said about Isabela's hand? How she can snap her fingers? If she does that, then the game ends. The top will cease all sexual activities, including the flogging, and free her. Well, most will first clear the sub's mouth, so they can talk and find out what the problem is, in case it's just something easily corrected. A line of the rope that's shifted and is cutting of circulation for instance." He pauses, then adds, "Questions so far?"

"Why ropes? Is there a connection between sailing and sex? Is this practice commonplace? Is this a particularly Drow practice or do all elves practice it? Do you engage in these practices?"

"In a general sense, because the feeling of being constrained can be enjoyable. Ropes are softer and easier to use than say chains. Silk ropes in particular feels very erotic against sensitive skin. I don't think there's much connection to sailing, aside from, I suppose, both benefiting with being good with knots?" _What else did they ask?_ "I do partake in this sort of thing, though due to... emotional scars from my past, I find it very hard to enjoy being tied up. On rare occasions with Isabela, I might have my hands bound, but that's about all. Merill, on the other hand, very much enjoys bottoming, including being constrained, be it with ropes or simply being held down."

"Can this one watch sometime? I need to sketch this."

"...for research or is there a little... personal interest in play?" Zevran replies, voice shifting to a teasing pur. Because he's Zevran. Behind them, there's the sound of the door opening and closing.

"Research!"

He sobers a little, eyes kind. "That would be okay, if you were. Interested, I mean. It's perfectly natural, Helene," he says gently. "In this-" Another gesture at the mirror, where Hawke has swapped places with Estelle, sans flogger, the drow instead occupying herself with whoever the male drow is, "or in a more general sense."

Helene's expression of alarm doesn't abate. "This one would like to conduct more research. Much more research." They look away from the mirror, then, toward Zevran. "After Madam Zevvy returns from rescuing Lady Sage zi'Hawke?"

"I have a few books you might like on the subject. And perhaps a few people at Voice you might be well to interview," Zevran replies. Then their second comment sinks in. _Rescue Hawke. Fuck!_ His attentions snaps back to the mirror, where... Hawke and Isabela are sharing what both would refuse to call, for different reasons, a tender, loving kiss as they bask. "...you are sure, neither are enspelled?" he asks quietly.

"I-- I will cast again," they say, taking a deep breath.

Zevran nods slightly, watching the scene in front of him. Despite Hawke's clear enjoyment, there's something... off about her. But as much as he'd like to point at it and cry 'ensorcellment' he's unable to. No, that's... hurt that shades her eyes, anger and fear that taints her touch.

"There are no such spells," says Helene, after a long moment -- and just before the scene winks out.

Zevran starts a little at the sudden blanking of the mirror. "Was that- did the spell run out or did something happen?" Had Estelle glanced around just before the spell run out?

"It ran out. I can cast again?"

"...no. No, that's... fine. They weren't enspelled?" Zevran asks once more.

"They were not enspelled," they confirm.

_Right. Fuck._ "I... may have made a mistake," Zevran says slowly.

"From what I recall, yes, yes you did," Varric says behind them as he comes back into the room. "Did I miss anything relevant to anyone's safety? I heard the 'not enspelled' bit." _And remember nothing at all about what was on the mirror. Best. Wand. Ever._

"Lady Sage zi'Hawke and Captain Isabela were engaging in unusual sexual activity and not, in fact, kidnapped or enslaved," reports Helene. "This was determined shortly before Lord Tethras exited the room, and thus may not have been heard."

"One- not a Lord. Varric is fine, thanks. Two- I'm asexual, no I don't want to explain that, yes you can ask Zevran for a general explanation later, no I don't ever want to hear details about Hawke's sex life. Or anyone's sex life actually. Three, good to know she's just being Hawke and not that anything nefarious is happening." The dwarf doesn't sound offended, just briskly informative. Well, that last line had some snark to it.

"Understood." says Helene, factually. There's a hint of relief on their face -- this is good, professional and factual and easy to comprehend without any sticky emotional bits in it. "Asexuality is known," they add. "Nefariousness is still in question. There is no change in the plan, only the immediacy of the problem."

Varric raises an eyebrow. _Huh. Not a question and just a confirmation of understanding as commentary._ "And by plans you mean..?"

"Lady Sage zi'Hawke--" They pause, seeming to hear themself for the first time, and blush faintly. "Correction. Hawke is still planning to visit what is known to be a Drow stronghold, which is typically held to be a dangerous endeavour. Furthermore, there is reason to believe that Hawke's judgement is compromised by sexual attraction to one of the Dark Ones. This seems an ill advised course of action."

"Right...." Zevran says, starting to gather momentum again.

"Wrong," Varric says firmly. "Hawke is visiting the home of a friend of hers. And yes, she's probably just a bit infatuated with Estelle. Kind of the same way she got infatuated with this ex-slave we found in a crate. Or this elf we were hired to escort. A guardswoman that arrested her. That's just Hawke. Sure, it... sometimes explodes- Anders- but that would have worked out much smoother if she'd not gone at it alone. So how about, instead of attacking her, we support and help her, so she's not feeling isolated and might just ask us for help."

"This is... normal for Hawke?" asks Helene, slowly, to be sure they understand.

"Falling for someone and such?" Varric shrugs. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Agreed," Zevran admits with a sigh.

Helene glances back at the mirror, uncomfortable. "This one is uneasy with this situation."

"Agreed," Zevran admits with a sigh.

Varric rolls his eyes. "I'm uneasy with a lot of things she does. Doesn't mean I should try and stop her from doing them. Not my place, not my right."

Now their attention snaps to Varric, regarding him with a piercing gaze. "Please explain the rules for when an intervention is called for."

"Ask me, Zevran, Merrill and Aveline. If at least half of us agree, then she probably needs a talk. If three of us do, she needs a talk now. If we all agree, then she's probably possessed again, knock her out and check," Varric shorthands. "You'll pick things up as you go."

Helene nods. "Understood."

"Ah, addendum or whatever to that- if you can confirm she's not possessed without knocking her out, that's probably better," Zevran says hurriedly. "And you're also allowed to talk to Hawke directly, first, to try and convince her to change her mind. Talking is fine."

Helene nods. "Understood." A pause, then they add, "I have had no visions that seem to relate to Dark Ones or Hawke."

"Right, see? And Alydra's clearly got a stake in Hawke, so she'd give the alarm if this was a big deal, right?" Varric says firmly, referring to Helene's patron goddess and the source of their visions. "So we should all calm down and talk to Hawke tomorrow night. You want to be there, Seeker?"

"This one would prefer that course of action, but this one is not necessary."

"Eh, you're the idiot's friend,"

"Ass."

"and you seem an alright sort, so why not?" Varric says, not batting an eye at the interruption. "Be nice to have someone I can have a real conversation with. Wynne tries, but she just doesn't enjoy a nice rousing debate."

"This one is pleased to be of service to Varric, Father of Heroes." Helene gives a bow.

Varric gives them a look. "How about a compromise? Beinn Varric, if you don't feel comfortable with just Varric," he offers after a moment, thinking a common dwarven title for a clan elder is better than Lord or Father of Heros for damn sure.

"Understood. This one is trying to show proper respect and express admiration for Beinn Varric."

"Varric does that just fine on my end, but up to you when you're okay with that," Varric informs them. "So... what's your opinion on opening up Speaker nominations to people that don't live in the district that's nominating the person? Or aren't part of the group that's doing the nominating?" This has been the latest big debate in Nyra- at current, if a group or district wants to nominate someone for a Light Speaker position, the nominee has to be very directly related to the group.

"It leaves the city open to efforts at hostile takeovers from neighboring cities," replies Helene promptly.

"But what about claims that if an outside force gains enough support to be voted in by the other Lights, then perhaps it would be warranted?" Varric counters. Not that he disagrees with her, to be honest.

Zevran sighs a little. _Is this really happening?_

"This one is wary, nontheless. Charismatic figures often gain support where they have not earned it, simply due to the factor of being friendly and charming."

"Yeah, you can come over for dinner when you want," Varric announces firmly, making Zevran sigh.

And frown. _Get your own nerd friend._ Zevran blinks. _Wait, what? I am... was I just jealous? How very peculiar..._

"This one would like to know the rules for dinner attendance." Helene looks to Zevran, as if asking him.

"Check with Merrill," Zevran says absently. "She's kind of the... coordinator for Hawke's Clan life, as she's the easiest to find, being home most of the time. Either there, or at Seli's church of late. She'll be able to let you know where people are eating or if there are any get togethers planned."

"Understood. Frequency?"

"Depends. If you're just eating over, then once a week, maybe a little less. If you bring something over- wine, whiskey, a dessert, a side dish or even an after dinner diversion like a new book to read out afterwards- two or three times a week is fine. If you reciprocate entirely- host some or even all of us over for a meal- every once in awhile- every couple of months- then as often as schedules allow," Varric replies before Zevran can come up with an answer.

"Understood," says Helene, turning back to Varric with a nod. They don't meet his eyes, Varric notices; it doesn't seem to be a shifty thing, just a habitual avoidance of eye contact. "This one does not reside in a place comfortable for entertaining. This one will bring gifts when this one visits."

"Merrill is very fond of light hearted youngling tales," Zevran offers. "And she and Hawke both like adventure stories, true or imagined, though only if they have happy- or at least not dark- endings."

"This one is not well versed in fictional stories," Helene admits. "But this one has notes indicating true adventures from the past."

"That works pretty well too. Or true stories about other people can work," Varric agrees.

Zevran nods. "Or... can you cook? It occurs to me I've never asked."

"This one is not accustomed to cooking. This one purchases meals ready-made."

"I could show you a few-"

"Helene! New rule. Never eat anything Varric cooks, nor allow him to teach you how to cook," Zevran says firmly, getting a very rude gesture and a muttered oath from Varric.

Helene glances at Zevran. "Understood."

"Asshole," Varric mutters. "I cook just fine."

"Char and smoke are not food groups, Varric."

\---

The following night, Merrill, Zevran, Varric, Aveline and Helene are all gathered at Hawke's place. Aveline has been briefed on the matter by Varric and a somewhat surly Zevran trying to chime in far too often. Seli had been over last night, but had to watch the twins so Andy could work and so had to give this a miss. Dinner has been made and eaten, and the group heads in to the living room so they can all gather around Aveline, who has managed to wrest the ring back from Merrill. Instead, the elf is sitting in Zevran's lap with a steaming mug of tea and warning look.

Varric has broken out a stradjas board to see if Helene is any better than Hawke at wayang board games. Lots of tricky rules that have dozens of exceptions and interactions, plus six times as many types of pieces. There's not all that much in the way of entertainment opportunities in the Shadow Plane, so wayangs have had to make their own diversions.

Aveline, face stern, gives everyone a firm look. "And if you speak out of turn, I will shut you up," she reminds them, tapping the long decorative pillow she's holding in one hand against her leg without any sign of humor. _This is my life now. This is normal. I'm enforcing discipline over a bunch of adults with a pillow. And I don't have to explain because this isn't the first time. How did this happen?_

_I blame Hawke._

"Good evening, Merrill." Hawke's voice through the communication ring sounded a little wary, but otherwise upbeat.

"It's good to hear your voice, Hawke," Aveline says softly, her voice actually tender.

"Hawke! I miss you," Merrill says forlornly.

"Helene and Zevran are both here too," Varric adds. "Seeker's got you beat hand's down at stradjas. We're going to have to play a triplex game when you get back."

"Hello Aveline, Helene, Varric, Zevran. I miss you too, Merrill." Hawke hesitates, wondering how to broach the topic.

"So. I've heard about your new friend, Lady Estelle di'Rubijin Enclave," Aveline says briskly. "But I'd like to find out more from you, as the person with the most first hand experience. My own meeting with the Lady lasted all of ten minutes, and, while favorable, that's not a lot to make any sort of character judgement on."

"She's wonderful," begins Hawke, then pauses, awkwardly. As if waiting for rebuke.

"Merrill is sitting- literally- on Zevran with a cup of hot tea so he can't start shouting without risking scalding her," Varric calls out.

"Ah," Hawke says, relieved. "Estelle really is wonderful. She's so clever, and so kind. She's trying her hardest to understand how to be a good person -- it's not easy to root out oppression in your own culture, but she's open to listening and trying to improve. She's as fascinated by Nyra as I am by her culture, and we've spent a lot of time talking through the similarities and differences. Her society is still matriarchal, but they don't condone slavery."

Zevran swallows, hard, at Varric's comment- and at Hawke's clear relief at it. _Did I... did I hurt her that badly? I was just... I just wanted to protect her. Didn't I?_

"How sure of this are you? There was some talk, some concern, about the male drow she had attending her, and his... level of freedom," Aveline asks, tone even and non-judgmental.

"Toren? He's a bit old school -- his parents came from an underground community, and thus he's more of a stickler for the proper forms of address and older customs. She let me proposition him, even though we can't be together ourselves, and I made it clear to him I wouldn't take advantage of him if he was in any way unwilling. He seemed reserved, but not unhappy. Very dry sense of humor, actually, I rather liked him."

"Why can't you have sex with her?" Merrill cuts in, causing Varric to sigh and devote his focus on his game with Helene.

"An arrangement with her wife. She's not allowed to have sex with anyone considered her equal in rank -- I'm a Light, so I count. She's allowed to watch me and Toren, though, which was great fun."

Merrill wrinkles her nose. "That's a silly rule," she protests.

"But you've spoken with- Toren? You've spoken with him and you feel truly confident he isn't a slave, even under a more innocent name?" Aveline asks crisply.

"Do you really think I'd have gone ahead with it if I thought he was?" she snaps back.

"No," Aveline says simply. "But things might have come up afterwards that made you doubt. By your tone, I gather that hasn't happened however, so we can table that. How about Estelle herself? Any sign she's merely leading you on?"

"No," Hawke repeats. "She's been very considerate. Trying to make sure I'm comfortable at every turn."

"Then it sounds like you've made a good friend and... sort of lover," Aveline says, faltering a little as she relaxes.

"That's it? That's al-" Zevran's voice cuts off with a yelp. There's a pause, with some harsh whispering, then, "...sorry."

"I would have thought you of all people would understand," says Hawke, her voice soft, hurt.

"Hawke... after everything that my... that they've done, to risk you this way... I just... I can't breath. I can't think or- I just-" He cuts off, throat growing too choked to speak. Hawke can hear Merrill whispering softly, her voice a gentle croon.

A moment later and Aveline murmurs, "I... think you're not the only one that's been repressing hard, Hawke."

"Zevran," she replies, and it's a caress and a rebuke in one.

Helene turns from the game board, frowning. "If the Honored Madam Zevvy wishes, this one can take an account of his troubles for posterity."

"...thank you, Helene, but I do not think-" Zevran swallows hard. "Thank you but no, not... now."

"The offer remains," says Helene simply.

"Tell us more about Estelle," Aveline suggests. "Make her a person to us."

"She's so sexual sometimes, like Zevran. Today we were out shopping the market, and we found a display of hair ribbons, and she teased me about tying me up with them. It almost makes me laugh, when she does, because of the resemblance, but the first time I did she was hurt by it, and so I stifled it. Instead, I joked with her about using them for handfasting, and she laughed. Do you know, her people have almost the same handfasting ceremony, but they use metal ribbons instead, and they call it Swearing Ties? We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about wedding rites, about my wedding and about hers -- she was fascinated that I had two ceremonies."

"Really? That's fascinating!" Merrill says, giving Zevran a kiss on the cheek after. "Please my love... trust in her. She will come back to us," she whispers in his ear.

"Does she speak much of her wife? You mentioned their... arrangement earlier but naught else," Aveline asks curiously.

"She does, but only a little. It's an arranged match, and they can't consummate it for some years, so it's a little bit of a sore spot. She's doing the right thing, though, making a deal that sets her wife at ease, waiting to consummate until she's of age."

Zevran tenses, starting to say- shout- something, but Merrill captures his lips with her own first.

"Gnomish wife then?" Varric asks. "Yeah, wait, I know this. House Rubijin, right? Solidifying ties between the original founders of the mining outpost and the drow newcomers that they allied in order to survive, twice over. Gnomes do the arranged marriage thing kind of often actually."

"Yeah," the hero agrees. "I was concerned until I found out she'd never even considered consummating early. She's put up with a lot for this kindness -- it seems she's been bullied somewhat about their arrangement, but she's doing all she can to make her wife comfortable. She's not Anders, to change her whole society by force."

"That seems... reasonable," Aveline says after swallowing her own knee-jerk reaction to the idea of child brides. "How old is Estelle?"

"Older than I, by far. I'd guess at least in her mid sixties?"

"That's not bad, give they're long lived," Aveline comments. thoughtfully. "I assume you'll be meeting, ah, Estelle's wife while you visit?"

"Do you think maybe she'll come back with you both when you come back to Nyra?" Merrill adds hopefully. "We could all go out for dinner and maybe see a show? Or a concert?"

"I will certainly extend an invitation. And yes, I plan to meet with her. I do hope she likes me," she says, with a nervous laugh.

"You're you," Merrill replies simply.

Aveline chuckles. "It sounds like you'll be coming in with a very good character reference. Just be sure to ask for a briefing on topics and customs before you arrive," she offers a touch more pragmatically.

"Of course. I'm learning all I can -- I really, really don't want to give offense."

"She's got you hooked pretty well, huh?" Aveline asks dryly.

"Yeah," Hawke agrees, with a sappy tone, before she adds, more normally, "I mean, but also, diplomatic relations and so forth."

Varric snorts. "Right proper politician you're becoming, Hawke."

Zevran has bowed his head, trying very hard to get a grip on his emotions. Merrill is running her fingers through his hair, occasionally kissing his neck.

"I'm happy for you," Aveline adds. "It's good for you, I think. I'm not sure what it is about her, but you haven't been this... energized in a while."

"You think so?" The Champion's tone one of dry humor. "I'm glad. I really want this to go well."

"I as well," Zevran says abruptly. "For you."

There's a brief pause before Hawke says, her tone warm and a little reverential, "Thank you. That means a lot."

"Please... please call Aveline every night?" he asks softly.

"Of course, my love. I could do no less."

They can all hear a knock, though for those in Nyra it's very faint. A bare second later, a door opens and then Hawke sees Estelle enter her room in a skintight leather bodysuit. "Up for wine and conversation, mio abbagliante falco?"

"In a moment. Oh, say hi to my Clan," she says, holding up her ring.

Estelle hesitates a moment, looking nervous for a moment. "Ah, hello?" she offers after a moment. "I'm pleased to met the Famiglia Primario of my good friend." She flashes Hawke a worried look.

_Did she... she stole my nickname!_ Zevran seethes for a moment, trying to control his reaction. _What is wrong with me today?_

"Pleased to se- talk with you again, Lady Estelle," Aveline says in a crisp, official tone. "Captain Vallen, we met briefly when you first arrived."

"This one is also present. This one is called Helene." Helene notably doesn't send greetings.

"Well, I don't want to intrude on your time with your Famiglia," Estelle says after a moment. "I can come back in a bit or... you can just come to my room when you're done."

"Oh, wait, hello! This is Merrill, Hawke's wife. You sound lovely and I'm very much looking forward to meeting you when you both come back to Nyra, perhaps you can invite your wife to come along as well so we can go on a double date and have dinner and maybe see a play or concert if you're interested in that sort of thing?"

Hawke laughs. "I think the spell is about to run out anyway. I'll be along in a moment?"

"That sounds very nice, though I'm not sure if Claudia will be able to join us. Thank you for the offering, Lady Merrill," Estelle says quickly. A moment later and Hawke and Aveline can both feel the ring squeeze gently to signal they have about twenty seconds left.

"Love you Hawke," Aveline says quickly, gesturing at the others, which prompts a chorus of agreement from her triad.

"Take care of yourself," Varric says instead.

"Love you all, talk tomorrow. Bye Helene, good to see you."

"We should talk some," Merrill whispers gently to Zevran, who nods curtly, unable to refute her point- or met her eyes.

Varric clears his throat. "So... your turn," he says to Helene gruffly, carefully not paying to the elven couple as they rise and head for the bedroom. Aveline sighs and takes a seat, absently twisting the ring on her hand.

"Ah, yes. My apologies, honored one." They reach out, moving four of the pieces in a clever pincher maneuver.

\---

Estelle stares at Hawke with wide eyes. "Oh Naugrix that was terrible. I sounded so stiff and awkward. The must think me a fool," she moans. "And your wife was so nice and I was just- uugggggh." She covers her face with her hands. It's strange, seeing Estelle act like this. Even as short a time as they've known each other, it's been clear that Estelle plays the role of the cool seductress with natural ease.

Hawke grins at her. "You were wonderful. I'm sure they think you're perfectly nice. I'm surprised Bright Helene was there again tonight, they must be getting closer with Zevran than I thought. You could never be half as charmingly awkward as they are, hands down."

"...thank you... I think?" Estelle mumbles from behind her hands. "I-" She pauses. "Zevran was there?" she asks, voice suddenly casual- careless of her, as that makes it sound out far more than it would have been if she'd keep her flustered tone.

"He was," the Light replies, her tone careful. "Shame we ran out of time for you two to talk."

"Yes, I do hope we can... talk later," Estelle says, still causal. Her tone shifts, this time to a more earnestly amused and warm tone that Hawke hears often from the drow. "You wife really did sound lovely. She reminds me a little of Claudia. Not that I can really compare based on twenty seconds of conversation without even being to see each other," she finishes with a laugh.

She grins, a dopey grin. "Yeah, Merrill's always like that. A torrent of energy and words, but all of them kind and thoughtful and generous."

Estelle licks her lips, just the tip of her tongue peeking out the center. It's a gesture Hawke saw more than once last night, when Estelle is considering something particularly... interesting. "May I ask what sort of... arrangements you have with your wife?" she asks, her blasé tone at somewhat odds with her heated eyes and somewhat nervous gaze.

"I have to be open and honest about my other relationships -- which I have, by the way, she knows all about you -- but otherwise am free to do as I please with my heart and body."

"That sounds nice," she says, a trifle amused, a trifle wistfully. "Strange, to think of having to tell someone about each person I fuck, but still nice. Does... she perhaps have a similar freedom to... take other lovers?"

"She does," confirms Hawke. "She actually picked up a new one just recently, shortly before I left. She usually doesn't, though; she is happy enough with Zevran and myself, but apparently she can be convinced."

"If we cannot convince Claudia to... enjoy our show, perhaps you would like to watch me play with your wife?" she offers coyly. "Or, perhaps, even if she can be convinced. The more the merrier, no?"

_Because of course she wants Merrill._ "Yeah, that sounds great."

Estelle hesitates, studying Hawke for a moment. "Is... something wrong? Do you... if you're uncomfortable with me being with her..." she offers indirectly.

She shakes her head, with a rueful grin. "I'm not, not really. I'm just a bit jealous of her, that she gets your attention while I cannot. Normally, with someone like Zevran where we both can enjoy him, I don't mind one bit. I just need to get over it, is all."

Estelle moves towards Hawke, her hips swaying, her eyes lidded and burning. She wets her lips again, her hands smoothing down her the tight leather of her outfit, fingertips just grazing her breasts as she does so. "I assure you, mio squisita falco, that you do, in fact, very much have my attention," she breaths huskily once she's only a scant few inches from the merikos elf.

Hawke swallows, breathing rapidly. "I... see that," she whispers, a note of eagerness in her voice. It's almost pleading.

Estelle smiles wickedly. "Good," she breathes softly, then abruptly turns away to stalk over to Hawke's bed. She crawls into it, making sure to display some of her best assets in the doing, then sprawls herself across it. "So... I thought we could talk more about what you can expect when we arrive at the Enclave?" she asks in a crisp, almost cool voice that is utterly at odds with the way she's spreading herself across the bed.

"Wicked woman," she groans. "Alright, talk."

The drow presses a hand to her generous chest, a look of confused innocence on her face. "Whatever do you mean, Lady zi'Hawke? I merely wished to help my counterpart understand the ways of my people so that we might become closer," she says sweetly.

"Do the ways of your people involve tearing that leather off you with my teeth?" she groans.

Estelle fingers the leather- and the supple flesh underneath the leather- for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. She slowly traces her way up to her mouth, then taps her lips with one finger in a contemplative gesture. "You know... sometimes they do. Why, this is actually the fifth leather suit I've had since I was full grown? The others were... damaged. Or... spoiled very badly." She smirks a little then. "Which brings me to the first thing I wanted to discuss actually. Well... the first thing I had wanted to discuss... before I got here. Do..." She takes a deep breath, which causes her leathers to creak softly, among other... interesting effects. "If there was something... rather... well, significant to you in a close but indirect manner, but it's not confirmed, would you prefer to know about the suspicion or wait until it's been proven one way or the other?" she asks in a rush.

Hawke sits back, shaking her head a bit to help her focus. "Tell me," she confirms.

"So... your... mate? Zevran. Is mate correct? Is there a better word you want?" she asks, delaying a little.

"Mate is acceptable, I suppose. Lover, is what I use. But, go on, what about him?

"Do you... do you happen to know his... about his childhood? Where he's from? Or... from whom?" Estelle asks very, very carefully.

The Champion shakes her head. "He was taken from his home, I met him long after, and he doesn't like to speak of his past."

"So... you're not sure who his mother is? For instance?" Estelle asks, fooling neither of them.

"No," she says slowly, looking up at Estelle. "I do know that he grew up in a small village, raised by his human father, and he had a half-brother."

"Ah," Estelle says intelligently. _Suppose that would have been far too easy. Dammit mother... how could you not want to be sure? Male not or not, he could be- Dammit._ "So... not every drow that came with us to the surface, after we were exiled I mean, not all of us... stayed. Inside the Enclave," she say slowly, picking each word with care. Too much care, most likely.

Hawke nods slowly. "Fairly common, actually."

"So... you see, well, I have three sisters. And two aunts. But one of my sisters, Varisia... left. Shortly after she came of age. She..." Estelle licks her lips, the expression not nearly as alluring. "She... did not fit in. Life in a Famiglia is... orderly. Regimented. Oh, there's plenty of maneuvering, but only within certain bounds. She wanted less structure and more... ability to do as she wished."

"And you think she may have..." Hawke trails off.

"Zevran is the name of my grand-uncle, grandmother's twin and perhaps the most important male in our Famiglia's history.," Estelle says in a nervous voice. "And... how old is he? Is he younger than you? Much older?"

"Perhaps five years older than myself?" Hawke hedges.

Estelle winces. "I don't know," she hedges. "I asked my mother but... she doesn't keep in touch, Varisia I mean, and mother refuses to contact her to ask. I can try myself, or ask grandmother when we arrive but... I wasn't sure if you'd... if I should mention it unless I knew for sure."

"If you want, we can mention it tomorrow night. He might know his mother's name for sure."

"He... didn't seem... ummm.. receptive to..." Estelle tries to hint at but not outright say 'he sounded a bit hostile and begrudging of you being around me.'

"He's... protective," she admits. "He was unhappy with... well, you can imagine, he wasn't raised in your enclave.."

Estelle winces. "I... suspected as much. I can only imagine how life for... well, even with the power and support my rank and position grants me, interacting with those outside the Enclave can be painful. And... trying. _Living_ outside the Enclave..." She shakes her head.

"He was raised to believe the color of his skin marked him as a bad person," she admits, softly. "I don't believe that, not for an instant, but I may be the first one he's interacted with who feels that way. It's a work in progress."

Estelle's face goes cold and furious for a moment, then she smooths it over. "I see. Well. If he ever needs it, I would be willing to offer him a place in my household, regardless of any possible blood ties."

"I appreciate the offer, even if he doesn't," she says with a smile. "He has a home now, with people who love him for himself. He's doing a lot better than when we first met."

Estelle studies Hawke for a moment, then sags a little. "A lot better... how... how bad was it?" she asks softly. "I... not details. I won't ask you to... do that. But just..."

"Bad," she replies, her voice like ice.

"...anyone I can...." Estelle's smile twists to match Hawke's voice. "Well. My uncle does get rather bored, given how our Enclave rarely uses his... talents. If you have any names that aren't on gravestones yet."

"No, we pretty well covered that." Her tone isn't any warmer, and neither is her smile as she remembers Denarius' heart being torn from his chest for the second time, remembers freezing over his whole encampment.

"..." Estelle nods. "Very well. Let me know if that changes, if you would be so kind, Lady zi'Hawke."

"Of course. I understand your feelings on this matter." She nods.

Estelle exhales sharply. Then takes a few more deep breaths, which helps both center her and likely distract Hawke. After a few moments of this, she gives herself a quick shake. "So. Speaking of... family, I wanted to tell you about mine. A little... who's who sort of thing."

Hawke nods. "Alright, let's hear it."

"Okay. Do you want me to work from me or from my grandmother as Matriarch?" At Hawke's reply of the former, Estelle nods. "Okay. I have three sisters... including Varisia." She pauses, then adds, "Varisia is merikos, by the way. That's why I'm the Heir Tertiary and not her. Merikos are given full rank otherwise, but cannot be Matriarch. More due to lifespan than anything else really, but... Anyway. I have three sisters."

"Names and general descriptions?" asks Hawke.

"My other two sisters are Paerle and Wynnith," she offers easily. Then unzips the front of her suit in a single, smooth gesture.

"Ah," she says, swallowing as her eyes take in the bounty. "This is-- I see."

Estelle hums softly, then laughs. "I'm sure you do... but you should be looking at this," she says, drawing out a locket from between what Hawke is trying to look at.

She groans. "Wicked, wicked woman. Alright, what about the locket?"

"It has pictures of my family in it- I figured that would be better than simple words," Estelle explains. "Seeing something for yourself is always so... much... better." Notably, she doesn't take the locket off, instead opening it while it's still framed by her now mostly exposed breasts. She also crooks her other finger at Hawke, then pats the side of the bed next to her.

Hawke nearly stumbles in her haste to get over to Estelle, sitting next to her. "Alright," she agrees.

"You are such a delight," Estelle purrs, arching her back so she can see... the locket better. "These are my sisters. Paerle is on the left, with the longer hair, and Wynnith is on the right kneeling in the thigh-high boots." Which is the only thing that's being worn by anyone in the picture. Paerie is holding a... toy though. Well, she's holding half of it with her hand, while her sister is holding part of it in her mouth. They look a great deal like Estelle, though Paerle, in addition to the almost floor length hair, is a bit shorter but has even larger breasts. The other sister has a noticeably longer nose and big, pouty lips.

"I am going to enjoy this trip," Hawke groans.

"Well... about that," Estelle says slowly. "You see... I've told you about my arrangement with my wife Claudia. And how my sisters took advantage of it to... make me look the fool. Such power plays are very, very common in Rubijin, as other alternatives have been... deemed too cruel for the sort of life we wished to create. So we've turned the same skills and... ploys that were once used for assassinations, kidnappings, torture and blackmail into almost a game. A very cutthroat and important game, but one with very clear rules and limits. Most of the time damage is only to reputation and egos, though moderate injuries and some property damage is not unheard of."

Hawke looks at her blankly for a moment, then groans, closing her eyes. "You'll be the death of me, woman. Alright, so you're saying I can't fuck any of them?"

That gets a little wince. "Yessss... well, no. You're certainly allowed to, in fact it would be very understandable to most. It would, however, damage my standing," Estelle says quietly. "As your... point of contact, the person introducing you to the Famiglia, I have first claim to inviting you to my bed. Unless the Matriarch indicates an interest," she adds almost absently. "If I were not interested for whatever reason, nothing would be thought of it, but..." She gives Hawke a smoldering look. "They would never believe I do not want to tie you to my bed and teach you the proper way to scream my name."

She stifles a small moan. "No, it's fine. I don't want to damage your standing. I'll just... have a lot of cool baths."

"It's just for the Famiglia Primaria and Secondaria it would be... damaging for," Estelle offers weakly. "Aside from grandmother of course. If the Matriarch invites you to her bedchambers- or anywhere else that takes her fancy- then by all means. It's unlikely, unfortunately, but just so you know. Or my mother, Alaedha, that would be fine as well, even if I'm miffed with her at the moment. They both outrank me, so that wouldn't be a slight against me, but rather me offering respect to their positions. Fair warning however, Mother has a strong pain kink." As she says this, she taps the locket, causing it to display another female drow. This one is wearing a similar outfit at Estelle is, but in deep crimson and leaving her bust exposed. She looks faintly older, but it's mostly in her sterner expression and less rounded features. Also, the riding crop she's pressing against her leg looks like it's covered in fine thorns.

"Ah, that brings up a good point," says Hawke, watching the locket. "How do I respectfully decline in your culture?"

"That... depends on who they are and why you're declining," Estelle says slowly, watching Hawke carefully. "And how they ask. If they're just flirting and make an offer, flirt back but don't accept. If they weren't serious, they'll either drift off for someone more willing or continue to flirt if they were enjoying that enough. If they make a serious offer- oh. Right. Words, gestures, displays- that's flirting. _Touching_ is an offer. I mean, sexual touching, of someone taps you on the shoulder or gives you hand up from a seat, that's probably not an offer. And a direct invitation is an offer, if it's casual, it'll be an implied invitation."

Estelle sets the locket down on her chest, shifting a little to highlight the curve of her hip without thought, the action as natural as blinking. "If Mother or Grandmother make an offer you don't want to accept, then... it would probably be best to make a show of not wanting to appear too biased, given your position as a Light. Without a formal alliance at least, it would be perfectly understandable to avoid being intimate with any of the Famiglia Primaria. Compliments and flirting during this are a good idea. Honey makes even the bitterest mushroom more palatable after all."

The Light nods. "Right. Lean on being a diplomat. Got it."

Estelle searches Hawke's eyes for a long moment, then glances away. "Right. Well, this is my aunt Beinthalla" she adds. Beinthalla looks almost like a copy of Estelle's mother, with only her long braid- Alaedha has worn her hair only to the nape of her neck- and a pale white scar crossing from the bottom of her ribcage to vanish under her right breast standing out as differences. Their body types are the same and even their features are startling similar. In the image, Beinthalla is in mid thrust as she does some forms with a rapier. Evidently she practices her bladework naked. "They're not twins, but it's often joked that was merely because my aunt is always late to everything. Oh, she's practicing for the bi-decadal weapon competition. You compete nude to prove it is you that is powerful, not your gear. Aunt Beinthall has placed in the top five for light blades every tournie since she came of age."

"And this one is my Aunt Grace." Grace will be easy to pick out, given her blood. Not only does she have glossy black hair instead of drow white, she looks noticeably older than her younger sisters, appearing to be in her forties instead of maybe thirty. Also, she's wearing a soft blue cotton dress, one that covers everything but does cling rather nicely to her curves. "She's a healer, a priestess of Valshathe. Which... is not the most popular deity in the Enclave, as she's viewed as... soft. Domestic. I have noted that few refuse the potions she and her students brew however," she finishes with a smirk.

"I get the feeling I should avoid talking about religion," jokes Hawke.

Estelle winces a little. "Well... Astea is... not... Ciren has a fairly strong following," she offers. "Other than her, people mostly worship Naugrix or Junon." 'Her?' Ah, right, makes sense. Most of the city-states address Ciren as male, but the deity is well known for shifting forms on a whim so it makes sense the matriarchal enclave would prefer a female address. "Ummm. Don't... you mentioned you worship Astea, but if you also pray to Teiris or..." She starts to make a gesture, then frowns. "Zanon is accepted by most, and patron to a few," she says carefully. "Kato's lies and murder are too... invocative of our dark past. The Loathsome Two are considered to be crude and... inelegant, even for those that delight in pain." Estelle carefully locks eyes with Hawke and then continues in a very deliberate tone, "those are the only gods mortal deem evil spoken of in the Enclave or to her people."

_So it's Sirena that's the problem. Noted._ Hawke nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I mentioned when we first met that my relationship with the gods is complicated. I belong to Astea, but there has been... significant interest in me from Mileen, Vangal, and of course Ciren." She gives a small laugh. "I suppose I can't love only one god the same way I can't love only one mortal."

"I have to admit I... can't quite see you as a follower of Mileen," Estelle comments. "Astea, yes, given how you love. And Ciren, given how you fuck. Vangal... well, you are said to be a hero. But the Lady of Grey?" Estelle frowns, trying to picture Hawke worshipping the caretaker of the dead.

Hawke winces. "We, ah, had a chat once. She was lovely, very kind."

Estelle's breath hitches, her eyes darting to the center of Hawke's chest, right at the knot of scar tissue hidden by the Light's shirt. "... I am well pleased She saw fit to give you back," she says, voice even.

"Yeah, me too," she says, with a lopsided grin. "She did me two favors that day, and I won't ever forget that. So I leave her offerings twice a year, in thanks."

"Not just you," Estelle murmurs before shaking her head slightly. "What was... Ah. Yes, if anyone asks, it might be best to focus on Ciren or Astea. Mileen is..." She shrugs. "Well, I don't think anyone has her as their patron, but nor do I think anyone disapproves of her. Vangal is often seen as... pushy. It doesn't help that more than one of us have been attacked on sight by people wearing his symbol."

The hero nods. "Ciren it is. Hopefully Astea doesn't get too jealous," she teases. _As if Astea got jealous._

"Alright, so that's- oh. Right, Grandmother," Estelle says after a moment's thought. She taps her locket once more and the images shifts to display an elderly drow. She's wearing a long cloak much like the one Estelle often wears, but hers is trimmed with dark black lace. She's also wearing a dress with a built in bodice, all in black with silver highlights. The bulk of the dress is... silk, maybe? But the bodice is clearly black dragon leather. She wears no crown or headpiece of any sort, but at the base of her throat, just above the top of her breastbone is a bit of shiny skin- a scar? It looks too regular to be a battle wound, but the image is too small to make out details.

As for her herself... Grandma is hot. Clearly older, probably near the midpoint of her third century, but still very fit. And, assuming the throne she's sitting on is near the standard size, she's tall. Taller than Aveline even, maybe within a couple of inches of seven foot. Very imposing posture, her face imperious and stern. Her arms are marked with thin while marks that Hawke can tell are defensive wounds, some of them long and wide enough that they're from a sword or axe, not a knife. She has a scourge whip on her belt, four long strips of leather with barbed hooks on the last foot and a pair of knife hilts sticking out of her adamantine bracers.

This is all offset by the three other figures in the picture. One is a tiny kitten climbing up her cloak from the ground. Another is also a kitten, this one in the lap of the last person- a tiny drow child, clearly taking a nap in the Matriarch's own lap. She's still a toddler, ten or twelve at most and curled up in blissful slumber as she clutches the also sleeping kitten close.

"Aww," Hawke coos, a warm smile on her face. "That's adorable!"

Estelle glances up at from the image with a surprised look. "Adorable? Really?" A slow smile appears on her face, one devoid of flirtation. "It's... rare for someone to give that sort of observation."

"There's kittens and toddlers, what's not to like?" She grins.

"Kittens are adorable yes, but the toddler being drow would make many ignore that," Estelle says softly. "But you didn't look past that. Didn't ignore it or- or what have you. You just don't care."

She shakes her head. "Even if I did care, that's a child. Children are never..." She shakes her head again. "No matter what the sins of their parents, children are worth protecting and loving."

Estelle's free hand reaches out towards Hawke's face. A scant inch from her face, she sighs and pulls away. Mustering her resolve, she forces her attention back to her locket.

One last tap causes the image to display a merikos gnome. She's almost jarring in how differently she looks compared to the other images Hawke had just seen, even the merikos Grace. Short, perhaps an even four feet from crown to sole but with a curvy build. Not as... lush as Estelle or her blood family, her hips and bum more subdued. Of course, she's also much younger, both in years and lifespan, so perhaps she'll fill out more, but drow are among the most stacked of races so it's unlikely she'll ever match up. Her features aren't as striking either, being of the sort that would invoke words like 'wholesome' or 'pretty' at most. Her skin is a soft lavender color, her long hair a rich chestnut color and held back by a flower circlet of wrought silver. She's wearing a somewhat demure cotton dress that's flattering but not designed to be sexuall. Like everyone else, she's barefoot, but Claudia is wearing a series of rings on her dainty toes. In the image, she has one hand on her hip and appears to be in mid rant or lecture at the view, her cheeks filled with color and her bright green eyes blazing. Clenched in the other hand is a book that looks like it was clawed up that she's thrusting forward.

Estelle doesn't say anything, just studies the image herself.

"Is that your wife?" Hawke asks, softly. "She looks clever."

"Yes, that's my Claudia," Estelle says fondly. "This was from about two years ago, when Gremmnoir- the grandson of the kitten in my lap from before- used her book to whet his claws." She's silent a moment, then adds, "she's an early bloomer, which... isn't making things easier." Two years ago would make her... twelve in this image. Early bloomer indeed.

Hawke nods. "I can see that. Like I said, I told you about my Merrill," she adds, rubbing the back of her neck.

Estelle smiles faintly, leaning back on the bed, still holding the locket up so she can see it. "It is hard to... not touch her that way. She's made a few attempts at... pushing things, but I just... I don't want to hurt her. She's so much younger, so innocent, but at the same time, it's hard to argue when she says fifteen isn't that much different than seventeen when they're compared to seventy-one. Or three. Especially when she's naked and oiled in my bed with her ankles already bound," she finishes in a mutter.

Hawke whistles, low and long. "At least you understand my torment," she teases.

Estelle gives her a dirty look. "She's going to hate you," she suddenly says, then winces.

"Shame," she says evenly. "Why so?"

"Because you're what she fears most. Or, well, you look like it at first glance," Estella clarifies. "If it wasn't for your... Astean sense of universal love- and your deep commitments to Nyra- then you'd be pretty much exactly the person that she fears will take me from her." Her eyes drift away from Hawke, but slide away from the image as well, unable to look directly at either.

_And am I?_ She knows better than to ask. "Well! Nothing to fear here, I'm -- sadly -- ethical and stuff."

"Sadly indeed..." Estelle sighs again. "I doubt it'll go unnoticed- or unremarked- about how... close we've become, despite how little time we've been together. I mean, how long we've known each other And there will be some that... will suggest that a tie to a Guiding Light of Nyra, the city were about to, frankly put, supplicate ourselves to would be a more gainful tie than merely affirming a bond long since forged."

"Let them talk. There's plenty who talk about my taking up with a brothel madam, but I don't let it change my course."

"...brothel?" Estelle asks, her attention diverted for a moment.

She repeats the word in Elven, just in case it's a translation issue -- a holdover from Merrill. Then, seeing a blank look, she adds in Common, "It's... how shall I put this. Remember how I told you about prostitutes? A brothel is like an inn where you can rent a prostitute and a room."

Estelle considers this a moment. "I suppose that makes sense," she says after a moment. "Much like the rest of your businesses, it's a private endeavor, done at seeming random by whoever wishes to do it." Her tone clearly shows her opinion of a non-state run economy. "We have something similar, the evolution of, ah, pleasure slaves," she glances at Hawke, worried about the topic. "It's voluntary," she adds quickly. "It's the same as any other duty or chore. If you wish to follow the career, you inform your supervisor- or teacher, if you're still in schooling- and you're evaluated to see if you're capable. You get trained if you pass, then receive a base degree of privileges, which you can increase depending on your performance. You're expected to, ah, fulfil your duties without complainant but you can quit and you're able to... limit certain aspects?"

Hawke's face hasn't thawed since she said 'pleasure slave'. "Let's not show me those." she says, flatly.

_And making a note to skip that, shame, Hawke would have enjoyed Talia I think._ "Did..." She takes a deep breath, then goes for it. "Do you want to talk about it? I know it's... not typical. And there are still... flaws. Like in the last decade, we realized we needed to- we started using truth spells, to ensure that those that went into the job were being honest about how they felt, instead of claiming they were okay because they didn't want to complain. Which has also revealed that we needed to give them more time off and...." she trails off as her nerves runs out.

"It's not that." She looks away. "I'm sure the job's lovely. I just can't. I've known too many ex-pleasure-slaves to..."

"Oh," Estelle says, eyes wide. A sudden horrid thought strikes her and she stiffens. "Were-" She swallows back the rest of the words. "Alright. If you... change your mind or have questions. Or want to talk to one of them, get their view, just let me know."

She nods. "If I can get the image out of my mind, I'll do that. I've seen prostitution at its best, I'm sure it's..." she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I know this must be trying to you. It's just one of my hang-ups, I don't mean anything about your culture."

Estelle shakes her head. "Aunt Beinthallia... that scar, across her stomach? She was was nearly killed, captured, when she was young. She was captive for three months and... used. She still can't tolerate hearing goblin or orcish spoken around her. Seeing either of those races sends her into a bloodrage. I... have to admit to having something of a bias against them both, just from hearing stories second hand. I can't fault you."

Hawke nods, a hint of relief on her face -- even as her shoulders remain tense. "Thank you for understanding."

Estelle reaches over towards Hawke, hesitates, then lightly rests her fingers on the merikios elf's hand. "Given the understanding you've offered me, how could I not?" she says softly.

Hawke smiles at her -- and oddly enough, her eyes water with unshed tears. "I'm glad I met you."

"I as well, mio falco adorato," she whispers back. She smiles, a trifle shakily. "There... there is more I should tell you about," she says with reluctance, clearly not wanting to 'work' any more tonight.

Hawke rubs at her eyes for a moment, then nods. "Alright. Go on."

_You're entirely too dedicated,_ Estelle thinks a little sourly. "I'm... not in the mood to tease anymore, do you... want to lay down?"

The hero nods. "Is cuddling allowed?" she asks, her tone a little quieter than before, a little more vulnerable.

Estelle blinks, then considers it a moment. "As long as hands and mouths don't wander, either of ours, then yes, I think that's fine," she says finally. She then gives Hawke a thoughtful look, finger tapping the tight leather of her outfit.

Hawke lays down then, resting her head on Estelle's shoulder. "Much better."

"If... if you want- and don't mind Toren sleeping here as well- we could stay the night like this," Estelle offers after nearly a minute of just being with each other.

"It has been a little weird sleeping alone so many nights in a row," she admits. "I'd like that."

"Then give me a moment and I'll go fetch him. And find something I can sleep in because if I wake up naked, our limbs entwined, I will break my promise," she says honestly, slipping out from under Hawke. "I'll be back quickly," she assures Hawke as she heads out of the room.

And indeed, she's back in less then three minutes. She enters first, still in her leather outfit but carrying a bundle of silk. Toren enters, his face somber and blank, then heads right for the far wall and leans against it. "Do you prefer to sleep on your side, atop me, under me..." She leaves it somewhat open, letting Hawke have first choice. She tosses the bundle on Hawke's dresser as she asks, then starts peeling herself out of her outfit. Oh my, did she she not bother to zip back up when going to her room? Surprised she wasn't, ah, intercepted by anyone.

Hawke begins disrobing herself -- fair's fair and all that. "I usually curl around my lovers." _Protectively._

_Hmmm, I generally prefer the same, but..._ "Would you mind if I'm facing and slightly under you?" she asks, bending over to strip the outfit off her bottom half. As per the 'no more flirting tonight' proposal, she doesn't carefully position herself to show off any part of her body, instead simply going about the task.

"That sounds fine," she agrees. _Different, at least._ She goes to the dresser then, taking out a pair of pajamas -- two pieces, they're long-sleeved and cover most of her. An odd choice.

"Those look... comfy," Estelle says neutrally, lips quirking only a little. Naked by then, Estelle drapes her outfit over the dresser, then picks up her own sleepwear. It's a two piece, a pair of rather tight silk shorts that really live up to the name and a long silk teddy with an open bottom made of gossamer black silk. It goes down half to her thighs, further than the shorts but only buttons to a few inches above her navel.

"They are," she agrees. "I figured you'd appreciate them over my normal sleeping attire."

"Or my own, usually. What surface races call sleepwear, drow would call... tools of the seductress," Estelle replies. "I would ask to borrow a set of yours but they wouldn't be much better than my own, all unbuttoned and exposing half of my bum," she says innocently, batting her eyes at Hawke in a playfully catty gesture.

She snorts. "Rub it in, why don't you." Then laughs -- "Nevermind, don't answer that."

Estelle pouts, then heads over to the bed. "So..." she asks as she lays down and gets comfortable before patting next to her. "Any questions so far?"

"No, I think I have it. Matriarch has three daughters: Alaedha the eldest, Beinthalla the middle daughter, and Grace the youngest and a healer. Alaedha has four daughters: Varisia who is merikos, yourself -- and thus a daughter-electi in Claudia -- Paerle, and Wynnith. That makes up the Primaria, since you're yet childless, correct? With your aunts and cousins making up the Secondaria?"

Estelle beams at her. "No, you didn't get anything wrong," she replies. "Lacking some, but I haven't covered it yet so that's forgivable for one as generous and merciful as myself. My mother and Grace are are also married, to Delania of Tevadas and Vanderin nee Browuld respectively. Drow and human," she adds. "And if I had children, they would be Secondaria, Primaria stops at the granddaughter."

"Alright, that's easy enough."

"A system must be simple yet comprehensive. Neither attribute can be absolute lest the other suffer. Instead a careful balance must be achieved that allows both operation and order." Estelle says, clearly quoting.

"And that's from?"

Estelle coughs a little. "Ah, it's from scripture." A pause, then she admits, "Zanon's."

"It's a good quote," she says, shrugging. "I'll have to see if he's got more insight into infrastructure. I'm trying to improve the poor areas of Nyra, so any good advice is welcome."

Estelle pulls her closer, draping the small girl half over her upper torso. "Strange," she comments. "You've the curves of a woman, yet the build and height of a male." She breathes in the scent of Hawke's hair, then flicks her eyes over to Toren. "Dowse the lights and then you may meditate," she orders him, getting a sharp nod and then prompt obedience. Before he takes more than a few steps, she adds, "and good night, Toren." He doesn't pause, but does incline his head, just a little. "This is an informal visit, so you shan't be meeting members of the other Famiglias. Well, possibly Claudia's immediate family, but that's unlikely."

"Fair enough," she confesses, snuggling in close to the... squishy pillow beneath her head.

Estelle smiles faintly, finding comfort in the closeness, the warmth and weight against her. "Tell me about... your family?" Estelle asks curiously.

"My Clan or my family?" she asks, her eyelids drifting lower.

"Is there a difference?" Estelle asks, her own eyes closing as she runs her fingers though Hawke's hair. _Strange, to have such short hair on a female. And yet not unappealing. Still enough to grip after all._ "Then... the more important to you."

"Did you think a dwarf naturally sired an Elven Merikos?" she chuckles. "He saved me. Took me in when I was alone and friendless. Made me the person I am today. Everything, the whole Clan, starts with him: Varric Tethras." Hawke begins to tell a mostly true but perhaps not fully detailed story of her 'heroic origin' but neither female manages to stay awake for much longer. Ten minutes after their breathing even outs, a light sheet is draped over them. After that, the room is quiet and still until the morning.


	4. The Robijin Enclave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke makes another stop on her journey -- this time underground.

It's a bell before noon when the Siren's Echo arrives at Robijin Enclave. From above, it doesn't look too impressive. Well built, rather secure and neatly designed, but it's very utilitarian and simplistic style. The Enclave is built into and onto the highest of a range of rocky hills overlooking a small but navigable river. There's a palisade of sharpened logs surrounding the entirety of the external buildings, which number about two dozen. Estelle explains that most of the buildings above ground are housing for sheep and chickens, along with some warehouses and a guardhouse. Most drow don't eat meat, but the gnomes, humans and many merikos do, and the wool is actually nearly as prized as silk to the drow due to it's rarity. In their opinion anyway.

Most of the village is underground, with each of the four Famiglias having their own section of the massive cave system, though people aren't restricted from moving between areas (aside from private rooms and such of course). There's no tower to moor at, so Isabela has to ferry everyone down via flying carpet. Which, admittedly, is kind of fun for Hawke and Estella as the drow oh-so-cautiously allows Hawke to lean against her as they descend. For stability, of course. They were spotted well before landing, as one might expect, but they relax noticeably when they spot Toren standing prominently at the front of the carpet. After all the normal 'entering a secure settlement with a group of armed people' stuff is handled, Estelle leads Hawke, Isabella and a few of her more presentable crew to act as a makeshift honor guard inside the hill.

Inside is much, much more impressive. Massive stone doors, murder holes, barricades, kill zones, the works. Once they're passed that area, the walls and even ceiling erupt with carvings and embellishments. There are no torches or fires- instead, there are small sconces filled with fronds of some kind of plant that glow gently in purples, pinks and oranges. Estelle shows them to a nicely appointed room for them to clean up a little and put down their things. It's a little small- most rooms are, clearly space is more of a luxury than the silk wall hangings, fine marble furniture with plump leather cushions and elaborate carvings on just about every inch of exposed rock.

Estelle rushes off after seeing them into the room, explaining she needs to speak with her Grandmother privately. A few moments later, a sweet looking merikos drow girl, probably just past her majority, arrives with a sandalwood box and orders from Lady Estelle to 'help make sure Lady Hawke is made welcome and ready to be presented.' She then adds, a trifle shyly, that she's Lady Estelle's new handmaiden just earlier this year but that she and Lady Claudia praise her grooming highly. "Not that Lady Estelle needs much help to look fetching," Vailel says with a somewhat dreamy sigh before blushing.

"No, but I sure do," the hero replies, kindly. "What have you brought?"

Vailel quickly bobbles a curtsey, flushing again at the slight stumble, then opens the chest to show an assortment of vials, satchels and large crystals that looks very much like the one Estelle used on the ship. "Bathing things, mi'lady, as well as some adornments," she explains earnestly.

"Ah, lovely! A bath sounds marvelous." Hawke grins. "Come be a dear and help me get situated?"

Vailel's pale grey skin pinks slightly. "As it pleases you," she says demurely, bowing just right so her cornflower dress shows her admittedly modes breasts to best effect.

Hawke doesn't seem to notice; she turns, studying the rooms. "Which way?"

Perhaps a touch to Hawke's surprise, after Vailel prepares the bath water and such, she slips her dress off and joins her. Which is perhaps not entirely unwelcome, as Vailel is a pretty girl, if a touch younger than Hawke's normal preference. Hawke does turn down Vailel's attempts to wash her. Politely, gently, but that's... a bit much for someone of Hawke's humility. A half hour later, Hawke is clean, scented, polished and coiffured neatly. Thanking the handmaiden gets a pleased smile and soft 'anytime' before she departs. Which leaves Hawke to wait for someone to show up and let her know what comes next.

And wait.

And wait.

It's almost second bell before someone knocks and immediately enters the room- that's got to be a social thing, not just an Estelle thing. Who enters is not Estelle however, but instead a very pretty- and pretty familiar- merikos gnome. She strides a few feet into the room, then gives Hawke a very hostile look. "So. You're _Matriarch_ Hawke," she says, voice cold and aggressive. Her eyes, however, seem more desperate and hurt than dangerous.

She smiles warmly, jumping to her feet. "Ah! You must be Estelle's wife. I've been looking forward to meeting you. Please, there's no need for titles."

That gets a pause before Claudia rallies. "Were you now? I must confess to being surprised that you know she's married, given how she seems to have forgotten," the young woman snaps back.

"Hmm? No, not at all. We shared many stories about our respective wives. Oh -- let me personally invite you to Nyra at your leisure, I want to introduce you to my wife Merrill." She smiles, giving a small bow of respect. "And of course, the rest of my Clan."

Claudia's expression doesn't thaw a bit, though her expression does shift from a descent sneer into a disbelieving frown. "Then why, pray tell, has my so-called wife, having just returned from being away for almost half a month, neglected to so much as say hello, instead spending the last hour waxing eloquent about some woman of noble worth and great political connection?" Claudia evidently gets wordy when she's pissed. Or possibly she's always like that, it's not like Hawke would know.

Hawke blinks. "I... have no idea. I am not accustomed to her habits. I can assure you, while we've become good friends, I have no desire to harm her or yourself in any way. Would you like me to submit to a truthtelling?" That's probably heavy-handed, but Hawke doesn't do subtle; if she insults people by taking their words at face value, well, sucks to be them.

Claudia does seem to be somewhat taken aback by the offer. "Then... then why are you here? She was supposed to be on a tour, not coming back here with... you." she says, her voice small and lost for a moment. "I heard her... Paerle told me she was home so I went to greet her and she was just... going on and on about you. Why would she try so hard to get you diritti dell'ospite benedetto if she wasn't..."

_The what of what? Something about... being permitted for something? And being divine? Or possibly lucky?_ Hawke raises a finger. "Assume I don't know what that is? But, let me give you the tale, I'll begin at the beginning. I am Lady Sage zi'Hawke of Nyra, and as part of my official duties, I was asked to first meet, then travel with your wife. Over the past few weeks, we've become rather fast friends. When I invited her back to my chambers, she told me she was unable due to your marriage agreement. I would never, ever ask someone to violate that sort of agreement; she's taken rather too much delight in tormenting me, but we haven't and do not plan to do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'll swear to that under truthtelling, too." She smiles, nervously raking a hand through her short hair. "She's told me a lot about you. When the opportunity to stop here came up, I suggested we take it so I could meet you and learn more about the culture you both belong to. As you can imagine, people in Nyra don't speak highly of Estelle's people; I've found her nothing but lovely, so I was eager to learn the truth firsthand."

"Droits de l'invité béni," Claudia mutters, her voice distracted. "Rights of the blessed guest, a phrase derived from Book Four, Part Twelve, Chapter Six, Section Nine, Subsection Nine of," she makes that choking gesture, "'s holy scripture. Despite the origin, the phrase continues to be in common usage due to drow culture's high value on tradition and heritage." She shakes her head a little, eyes narrowing as she looks back at Hawke. "So you don't have any designs on Estelle?" she demands.

"I won't make a move on her as long as you're uncomfortable with it," she repeats. "I won't say I'm not attracted to her, because I am. I'd very, very much like to be with her. But I can and will control myself." She shrugs. "It's fine if you dislike me because of that. I'd like to be your friend, but I'm used to being rejected because of my sexual ethics."

"I..." The young lady scoffs. "She's fucking gorgeous, sexy, smart, funny, charming, loving and can make my entire body melt with a pout," Claudia says almost tartly. "I wouldn't believe you if you said you weren't interested even under truth spells. " She shifts, hands setting on her hips. "But you're not- you aren't here for a... political marriage?" Her voice breaks on that last word, causing her to flush slightly.

"Gods, no," she says, startled. "I'm not much of a politician. I'd have to object strongly even if the Lord Hand pressured me into something like that. No, I'm already wedded, I'm not looking to marry for political connections."

"But then- why is she-" Before Claudia can figure out what she wants to ask, the door flies open.

"Claudia?" Estelle calls out, voice slightly tinted with panic. She takes in the scene and both sags with relief and stiffens with concern at the same time. "Claudia... I was- I see you've met Hawke?" she comments cautiously.

The merikos gnome shifts so she can see both of them, eyes narrowed. "I have. Did you manage to get diritti dell'ospite benedetto for your friend?"

Estelle pulls back a little, hurt- and a little anger- flicking across her face before she controls it. "I did, thank you for asking," she replies coolly. "I wouldn't want Hawke to miss a single delight we can offer her after all."

"Can someone fill me in?" Hawke asks, trying for 'amused', though her brow creases with worry.

Estelle takes a deep breath to calm down, which regrettably allows Claudia to say, "it seems that my loving wife managed to impress Matriarch Emerison on your behalf. I'm sure you'll be able to pay her-"

"Claudia!" Estelle cuts in, her anger now clearly visible. "Even if my oath and our history is not enough to quell your jealousy, I will not allow you to insult one with diritti dell'ospite benedetto. Or my friend."

Claudia flinches, her eyes glistening as she blinks rapidly. "Then I suppose I should leave you to your friend," she says, trying to plaster her hurt with a dignity.

Hawke groans. "I'm sorry, Estelle. I didn't mean to-- should I bunk on the ship with Isabela?"

"This isn't your fault, Hawke, she's just being a child," Estelle says bitingly, causing Claudia to go pale. The merikos gnome doesn't say anything in reply, instead moving towards the door, clearly just barely holding back tears.

"Now that's cruel," snaps Hawke. "Whatever your grievances, you should do better by her than that."

Estelle turns to Hawke, eyes hard. "Ten years I've been true to her without a slip, without ever breaking faith with anything she's asked of me and still she doesn't trust me," she snaps, anger not enough to cover the hurt.

Claudia whirls around. "Well, what did you expect? A week and more, I've been hearing about you off having fun with your new friend! Your new, politically connected, beautiful, powerful of-age friend," she demands. "Shacked up with her on a tiny little ship, talking to Mother-electi about family and children."

The hero jabs a finger at Estelle. "You don't poke someone's sore spots. It's cruel, and it's never called for. You love her. Act like it."

Estelle glances away, stung but not really able to gainsay Hawke's point.

Hawke turns the finger on Claudia before faltering, lowering it. "My apologies," she says, a bit stiffly. It's clearly not what she was _about_ to say.

"What? What pearl of wisdom do you have for me then, Lady Hawke?" Claudia demands.

"If you can't trust your wife, why are you even with her?" Her tone is more subdued, but not particularly gentle. "Love her and trust her, or commit to a loveless marriage of convenience. You'll tear yourself apart trying to have it both ways."

Claudia opens her mouth, then stops before speaking. "...I do love her," Claudia whispers. "I do. I just- I can't... I try to trust her, I do trust- I just- it's just that I know I'm not good enough for-"

"Don't you dare!" Estelle cuts in, surging towards Claudia and grabbing her shoulder. "I love you, jealousy and all. I just wish you would trust me more," she whispers. "Yes, I've been spending a lot of time with Hawke. And yes, I want to fuck her a great deal. She's wonderful. But she's not you. Our marriage might have been arranged and our ages make things strange and complicated but I wouldn't change any of it because that might chance the woman I love."

Claudia has started crying quietly before Estelle even finishes. Sniffling, she whispers back, "I'm sorry, mon amour. I just... reading over your reports, I just kept picturing you in your room with her, talking alone at night over wine and-"

"Wait, my reports? Why- how did you get access to them?" Estelle asks sharply.

_She's been sending reports about our lack of sex life?_ wonders Hawke. She keeps quiet for now, watching the scene play out; it's really not her place to intervene, but she couldn't let them storm off angry like that.

That gets Claudia's back up again. "What? Is there something you want you don't want-"

"Claudia, those reports were sent to the Matriarch," Estelle hisses. "You're not _allowed_ to see them. Only Famiglia Primaria can view them outside of her presence. You could get in serious trouble for stealing them."

Claudia pales- evidently justice is a serious thing around here. "But- but I didn't! They were on my desk, in with the rest of the paperwork I was handling for you," she protests.

"Sounds like someone set you up," Hawke points out.

Claudia's eyes widen and she nods slowly. "I... I did wonder why they were incomplete but I figured parts were withheld for security reasons," she whispers. "But what was- why would someone want to get me accused of espionage?"

"It wouldn't have gone that far," Estelle says quickly. "We're not at war right now, you don't have any strong connections to external powers- at most, it would have been breach of Matriarchal trust. But it would have probably just been a public reprimand and a loss of face. Typical power games."

"Like the ones you warned me about?" the elf merikos asks Estelle.

"Yes..." Estelle says distracted as she tries to not fly into a rage that someone tried to get her wife in trouble like this. And used their biggest wound to do it.

"But I don't see who!" Claudia protests. "I mean, no-one's been treating me meanly or coldly, I haven't gotten into any arguments since you've been away. Your aunts never talk to me, Wynnith is working on some project she's wrapped up on, Paerle has been really great lately, it's nice, Mother-electi likes me and Grandmother is as she always is."

Hawke frowns. "The way I like to start with this sort of thing is, who would gain from this? If it went according to plan and you had a huge fight with your Estelle, who benefits?"

Claudia tilts her head as she slips into a more analytical, rational mindset. "Well, the most obvious would be you, as that would make it easier to get between us. However, if you had the ability to get sealed reports into my office while outside the Enclave, then you wouldn't need to be so indirect. If it had worked, and I was," her voice trembles for a moment, "rebuked by the Matriarch, then it would damage Estelle's prestige, as I'm considered her responsibility." A little bitter there. "Anyone she's in competition with would benefit from that, which means it could be anyone," she finishes with a frustrated huff.

Estelle, however, has taken on a resigned, almost saddened expression. "...Claudia, what did you mean by 'Paerle has been really great lately' earlier?"

Her wife looks puzzled a moment, then shrugs. "She's never really paid attention to me before, but after I had to talk to her about," a glance at Hawke, "the weekly status report for Mine 23 for you, she's stopped by your office every day when I've been working. Just to share a quick mug of mulled wine and chat, not to help with anything," she adds. "I know she's not supposed to see any of your paperwork. Oh, and yesterday, she invited me to come to the spa with her and her friends." She ducks her head. "It was... nice. Weird, but nice."

"Yeah, that sounds like she's the one making this move," says Hawke with a nod.

Claudia's mouth drops open as she stares at Hawke. "What, why? How did you come to that conclusion?" she sputters. To the side, Estelle has turned towards the wall. Hawke can hear her taking deep breathes, the exhales a flow of darkly muttered words.

Hawke starts counting points on the fingers of her left hand as she runs down the list: "You say she's never talked to you much before, but suddenly she's nice to you. This started just after you started getting the damning reports. She's lending you a sympathetic ear -- that's a great opportunity to help inflame any hurt you're feeling by telling you how right you are to be upset. She's inviting you into her social group -- without your wife, to drive a further wedge between you. And finally, from how Estelle told me about the political games going on, it sounds like she's trying to... I guess win you over to her side, which makes her position stronger and Estelle's weaker, especially if it becomes well known you're on the outs. It's like saying, see, I can even take my sister's wife, I'm obviously better than her."

Claudia stares, a little glassy eyed as Hawke explains. She blinks a few times, then finally mutters, "she started visiting the day before the reports but... the sink is off to the side, she'd have been able to slip the reports in when I went to rinse the mugs, wouldn't she?"

"Oh Claudia, I'm so sorry," Estelle says, finally getting control of herself and moving to kneel in front of her. Her arms come up but falter until her wife almost jumps into Estelle's embrace. "I've tried to protect you from the games but maybe I tried too hard."

Hawke nods. "The best way to protect someone is to teach them to protect themself." _Unfortunately._

Estelle growls, clearly of the same opinion as Hawke. "Rather just gag the bitch with her own intestines," she mutters.

Smacking Estelle on the shoulder, Claudia says automatically, "bad drow, no spankings for you."

"I'm always fond of freezing people to the floor and leaving them there," mentions Hawke off-handedly.

Claudia shifts so she can glare at Hawke. "Hey! Not helping. We're trying to become kinder, happier drow here," she scolds the Light.

Estelle snorts. "Tell that to my bitch sister," she mutters. "She'd love to be back in the deep, right up until a real drow brought her to heel."

"I mean, I'm an elf, so technically I can't be any kind of drow."

"You're an honorary drow," Estelle mumbles, not letting go of Claudia, who doesn't look like she minds in the slightest.

"She's actually being serious," Claudia remarks. "Diritti dell'ospite benedetto and all. It means you're to be treated as part of Emerison Famiglia for the duration of your stay. Normally, it's only extended to envoys of long allied Famiglias, direct envoys of... deities, ambassadors from another city's Triade di Famiglie or... similar things."

"Such as prospective wives of Famiglia Primaria or Secondaria." Estelle finishes in a pained voice. "I used the angle that the Guiding Lights are essentially Nyra's equivalent of a Triade di Famiglie but... Oh Claudia, I'm sorry."

Hawke sighs. "I can see that being a problem," she says, and there's real regret in her voice. "But yes, consider me an ambassador, not a... prospective wife." She shakes her head. "Merrill would laugh at me. I spent so long telling my whole Clan I didn't need legal ties to anyone, I wasn't looking for a wife, and then she proposed and I accepted without the slightest hesitation. I meant it -- I still mean it -- but it was _Merrill_ , how could I deny her anything?"

"Only because you honestly and truly think it would harm her," Estelle says quietly. Claudia lets out a soft squeak as she's squeezed tighter for a few seconds.

"I just don't see that I'm going to change all that much in two short years," Claudia says, sounding resigned.

"It's not just you. If I... touch you that way, before you're of age... it might be strange, but you know that's one of the very, very few taboos in our culture. If I was within a decade of my own majority, a merikos of fifteen might be... overlooked or if I were some unimportant drow, it might go overlooked but not us," Estelle says, getting a sigh from her wife.

"I know, I just... I want you so much," she whispers. "And watching you only helps for a little while, then it comes back even stronger."

"I changed a lot between fifteen and seventeen," Hawke throws out casually. "It didn't seem like it at the time, but looking back... yeah, there was a lot of growing I needed to do. And at seventeen I wasn't... ready for a serious relationship, ready to be married, yet either. Just because I turned the right age didn't make me ready. That said, the legal consequences of... if anyone suspected you had done that sort of thing in Nyra, you'd be looking at a long prison sentence, if you lived long enough to reach trial. It's one of the strongest taboos humans have, because humans change so much from year to year, that there's little enough wiggle room. You and me, we're human-blooded, so we have that same problem."

Claudia sighs. "I know... I mean, sometimes I do. Urrrgh, I do, I do, it's just hard to remember I know better some times." She growls softly. "A lot of times. Goddess you feel so warm and soft and I just..."

Estelle chuckles softly. "Anticipation makes the crest all the sharper, mio amore."

"In another two years, it'll be sharp enough to cut fucking _time_."

"You uh," Hawke begins, awkwardly. _Yeah there's no graceful way to say this._ "You masturbate, right?"

"Of course," Claudia says without any embarrassment. "Best way to relax before sleep."

"Good," she says, relaxing a little. "Some people don't, I was concerned."

Estelle laughs softly, amused- but pleased- at Hawke's concern. "Aside from necrophilia and pedophilia, there's not much drow are biased against in regards to sex," she comments. "Pleasuring yourself isn't considered any more of a... private thing than eating. In fact, it's very likely you'll notice people having sex, alone or with someone else, in public areas during the course of your stay. It's considered rude to stare, unless they invite you, and worse to join in."

"And it's rude to not clean up afterwards. I mean, at least call in a servant," Claudia adds helpfully.

Hawke nods. "Three of my Clan have been arrested for public sex before." She pauses, then frowns. "Necro and pedo -- what about beastiality?"

"Depends on how you define it," Claudia puts in. "If you're calling sex with any non-humanoid, then loads of it. Drow frown on sex with near-sentient beings, likening that to a child. But any race that's capable of equal or greater understanding as, say, a gnome, is fair game. So are the other end of things- mindless creatures. Tevaidas Famiglia managed to bring out some cutting from a few fungi, as well as some oozes, that are used for sex. It's considered no different than a sex toy. Basic animals like sheep or whatever are..."

"It's considered sad," Estelle explains. "If you prefer toys, that's fine, but if you go for a beast, then you clearly want a person but evidently can't convince someone to consent. It's not illegal, per se, but that sort of behavior would draw the attention of a Vitaian- ah... that's who helps people discover their calling, helps them find their role and then assigns you to a mentor or training class. They also help those who are having personal issues that are making them to act out or cause trouble that aren't yet breaking laws."

Hawke nods, slowly. "I... see. Frankly, I've never been in a position where I couldn't find a partner, so..." She shrugs. "I really have no insight here."

"Well, you didn't start screaming, run out of the room or even go pale and pinched in the face," Claudia notes, "so that's better than most people do if they found out stuff like that."

"Ah, but mio incredibile falco is a cut far above such people," Estelle says warmly. "I have been able to be more open with her about our culture than I have ever been when an outsider."

Claudia frowns slightly, eyes moving from one to the other. "Huh. Guess that explains why you two got so close," she says slowly. "You, uh, were pretty good about me coming in and screaming at you. Well, I didn't really scream but..."

Hawke smiles. "It was no big deal. I can understand why you'd be upset. Frankly, I'm pretty easy-going. There's only a few things I really can't abide." She holds up a finger. "Number one, I can't abide slavery, especially pleasure slaves. I won't deal with any who deal with them." Another finger. "Two, no summoning demons. Three, no creating undead. Four, I don't like being bitten, but I don't have a problem with other people enjoying that kind of thing. Otherwise, what people want to do with their bodies is their business, you know? I would hate to see a world with only one culture in it."

Claudia's eyes widen a little. "Uhh..." she glances at Estelle warily.

"I've told her about harems, and that we have... career prostitutes," Estelle says reassuringly, getting a slightly puzzled look at the least word. Still, Claudia is smart enough to make a guess given the context. "And none of us are necromancers, and we don't summon _demons_ of all things."

"...what about devils?" Claudia asks carefully, looking at Hawke. Still holding her, Estelle stiffens a little.

The Champion's expression darkens. "To be fair, it was a demon that killed my sister, but I'm not too fond of devils either. Or daemons."

"It's... rare," Estelle says carefully. "Summoning devils, I mean. Here, at least. They're... vital parts of many old ceremonies, celebrations. Grandmother has been pushing to... reduce their participation. And their presence entirely." She offers a slightly pained smile. "It's not so much out of morality, but rather that it's hard to be sure that devils have no ties to," Sirena.

"Only fully trained magi are allowed to summon, and their first rule is 'never summon that which you cannot defeat,'" Claudia adds, trying to help.

"There's no plans to summon such anytime soon," Estelle tacks on in a rush. "During your stay, I mean."

"Really not making me feel better about this whole thing, but thanks for trying," Hawke says, her expression still dark.

Claudia bites her lip. "I think they're creepy as shit and I'm really glad I've only ever had to see an imp?"

Estelle sighs. "Perhaps a different topic? As I said, there will be no summonings during your visit so..."

Hawke nods. "Do either of you like card games?"

"You and your Wicked Grace," Estelle says with a laugh. Standing up, she adds to Claudia. "A truly enjoyable variation of poker. I particularly enjoy the rules on wagering, it adds a nice bit of... spice to things."

"Spice?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. _Someone's been playing with Isabela..._

Claudia looks rather curious as well as Estelle nods. "Wagering kisses, clothing and climaxes instead of copper, silver and gold makes it much more fun. Clever name for such an activity as well."

"That does sound fun," Claudia agrees quickly. "Perhaps we should play a few hands?" she adds, eyes wide and innocent.

Hawke barks out a laugh. "Someone's naughty."

"Spankings?" Claudia replies instantly, looking hopeful.

She glances to Estelle. _I mean, technically, that's not... no, bad Hawke, leave her alone._

"Imp," Estelle says with an eyeroll. "Maybe if you behave for the rest of the night, you... can watch Hawke spank me?" she offers hesitantly. "If you're interested, I mean. If you're okay with..."

She trails off as Claudia places a finger over her lips. "Tell you what," the merikos gnome says slowly. "Maybe if... the two of you are behave- and entertain me- this week... we can give that- and... other things- a shot." She glances at them both rapidly, trying to read their reactions.

Hawke's eyes light up. "I'd love that."

Estelle smirks at Hawke. _Of course you would_ , she thinks with amusement, tossing a wink at her. "Only if you're sure," she murmurs to Claudia, who shrugs a touch jerkily.

"I'm not but maybe I will be," she mutters back. "And... well, she's leaving," Claudia admits. "I mean... you are, right? In a week or so? So even if..."

Hawke nods. "Definitely not planning to move here or anything like that. My home is Nyra. Though you two are welcome to visit."

Claudia's eye gleam a little. "I have heard that Nyra has a great many libraries," she says very casually.

Estelle snickers a little, then sobers. "Well, such talk must, alas, wait. Hawke is to be presented to Grandmother in," she glances at the clock, "sixteen minutes. We have just enough time to walk down sedately and still have a few minutes to reflect and settle ourselves." She pauses a moment, then clears her throat. "If you'd like, you could accompany me," Estelle says softly to Claudia.

The younger woman's eyes widen and she nods quickly, but quickly aborts the gesture into a calmer, more mature one.

Hawke swallows. "Run me down any etiquette points I need to know? Other than be polite."

The two of them give a softly spoken lecture as they head out across the underground complex. Which doesn't feel all that underground, at least in this section. The utter lack of windows does give a hint, but in nearly every other way, it feels as if instead of being in what was once a cave, that they're simply in a very large building. As for the lecture, most of their advice boils down to 'let the Matriarch talk first and last.' She gets to control the pace of the conversation, even if she lets it go silent for minutes at a time, you should just wait for her to decide she wants to resume.

"Grandmother doesn't do that sort of thing often. Or, well, she might drop a few moments of silence in a talk to let you stew on something, but she doesn't do twenty minutes of dead silence just to make everyone wait on _her_ whim as a power display."

Claudia has a few bits of advice as well, ones that Estelle nods at with the air of someone realizing they do something without ever realizing it's a thing. One, check the Matriarch out. Don't leer or linger on any one part, but give her a once over when you first enter, and be sure to glance if she does something to highlight her body. It's not just expected, it would be insulting if Hawke doesn't at least pay some token attention. Two, don't fawn but don't be curt or clipped. Matriarch Feythal- and Hawke is probably very grateful to finally get a name, as Estelle always calls her Grandmother if she doesn't just refer to the title- does best with people that are polite but don't waste time, however she doesn't like either side of that to get to an extreme. She doesn't mind a bit of humor, but doesn't like outright jokes and, obviously, no humor at her expense. Finally, don't speak in elven- none of the eldest generation have lost that instinctive hate for elves that's instilled in drow from birth in the Deep.

Arriving at a set of large, imposing wooden doors- a sign of wealth even now despite their far greater access to such- the married couple do a quick last minute check on Hawke's appearance.

"Any specific questions?" Claudia asks as she pretends to check the hang of Hawke's dress in order to get an eyeful of the merikos elf's rear.

"So many, but none that are important right now. Thank you." She sighs, raking a hand through her hair as it trying to get the short locks to cooperate. Then she straightens, visibly assuming the Light persona she's had to cultivate: standing up straight, a staff in one hand but not leaning on it, her expression carefully neutral and solemn, her posture just stiff enough to give the idea that she's Important and not relaxed or casual.

Estelle studies her a moment, then nods. "Good. Make sure to add a little sway to your hip," she advises. "Grandmother is likely to poke you a bit, she seemed... dubious you were really as accepting and understanding as I made you out to be"

Claudia flushes a little as she takes Estelle's arm, closing her eyes to center herself. She's just opening them again, a faint smile on her lips, when the doors open smoothly. A male drow clad in ebony-black chainmail and red silks steps through, bows, then intones, "the Emerison Matriarch will see you now."

Estelle nods slightly, then moves to enter the room with her wife, leading the way for Hawke to follow. This is, by far, the largest room Hawke has seen in the Enclave, but even so it's still barely half the size of the Wick. It does have two stories to it, as there are alcoves dug into the walls with seating in order to allow more people to fit. Currently, they're all empty save for a few with archers stationed there, each holding a pair of tiny crossbows that Bianca would giggle at seeing. The seating on the ground floor is also empty for the most part, with a only a double handful of drow present. of them appear to be guards, dressed much like the male that opened the door for them and armed with twin blades on each hip.

Estelle's sisters are present, at the very first step of a dais leading up to the throne. Wynnith is standing, and honestly looks like she'd prefer to be spending her time elsewhere. She's dressed in sturdy looking leathers with a great many pockets and tools hanging from straps and buckles, her only real nod to fashion a luxurious silk cloak she's mostly covering her work clothes with. Paerle is a study in contrasts, as she's decked out in an outfit clearly designed to make an impression. A tight leather corset that cuts out before covering her breasts, acting more as a shelf than a shaping tool is paired with scores of quarter inch silk ribbons serving as a skirt. The corset is a dark purple, the ribbons various shades of red that are matched with streaks of coloring in her otherwise pure white hair. She's elected to stand as well, one hip cocked to the side to cause the ribbons to part, which in turn allows one to notice her hip is entirely bare, suggesting she's not wearing anything underneath the skirt. What she is wearing is a quickly masked look of shock and anger at the sight of Claudia and Estelle entering together.

Estelle's mother Alaedha is also present, reclining midway up dais holding the throne as she absently massages Beinthalla's foot, which is covered in old scars. Hawke hadn't been able to see them in the image, but they look almost like some beast had sucked in her entire leg to just below the knee and started chewing. The way the two are casually draped on the floor, the ways Aladeha's movements are smooth and repetitive despite her attention being on Hawke suggest this is a common activity for the pair. Sitting behind Beinthalla is a meek looking drow female serving as a backrest, the scarred warrior's head resting on her chest as Beinthalla eyes Hawke mistrustfully.

Matriarch Feythal is there, of course, seated in a very impressive throne made of twisted volcanic glass that has the appearance of frozen black flame. Matriarch Feythal sits on the throne with imposing regality. Hawke has never met a queen, nor even met someone that has given the rarity of true nations in this part of Aldis, but she knows what they'd look like now. Despite the lack of crown or royal vestments, the two hundred plus year old drow is clearly the ruler here. She's wearing a pale white fur cloak with a lining the glitters silver, a molded breastplate that covers her gut and lower chest but is clearly designed to not impact her movements in anyway, and heavy bracers on her forearms and calves made of mithril. In her right hand, she holds a short rod, one that looks incomplete. Thankfully Estelle had mentioned it, so Hawke is aware that it's a whip, but the lashes are made of invisible force that bypass armor of any kind in order to tear through flesh with ease.

Her left hand is holding the hair of the female drow kneeling in front of her, ensuring she doesn't pull back or move before Matriarch Feythal is done being... serviced. This must be the first 'poke' then. Estelle walks without pause to a spot five feet from the dais, then dips into a slow but deep curtsy, all without letting go of Claudia, who does her best to go along with the movement.

Hawke walks in with her hips swaying just a bit -- she doesn't have nearly as much to flaunt as Isabela, but she knows how to do the thing when she needs to. She takes in each figure in turn, her gaze finally coming to rest on the drow in front of the matriarch. A look of naked, hungry interest flits across her face; she lets it stay there a moment longer than is probably prudent before she schools her face into the neutral expression once more.

When they come to a rest, she gives a bow: not a bow that is nearly deep enough for a subject, but not as shallow as if she were the Lord Hand or something. A bow that means, I respect your power here, but you are not my ruler.

Matriarch Feythal makes them wait for a full minute before finally nodding slightly. "Granddaughter, it is good to see you. Please, present your guests."

Estelle steps forward a half step, shifting her hold with Claudia so she's just holding hands. "Of course, Grandmother. I am pleased to be accompanied by my beloved Claudia," she says, pressing a kiss to the back of her wife's hand.

Claudia dips into a much quicker curtsy, more an acknowledgment than an show of obedience or greeting. "You honor me, Matriarch," Claudia says softly, getting a slight nod in reply and perhaps the barest flicker of a smile.

Turning slightly, Estelle gestures back towards Hawke. "And this is my newest but very dear friend, Lady Sage Marian Tethras zi'Hawke, Matriarch of Clan Tethras of Nyra."

That gets some narrowed eyes from all but the Matriarch and, curiously, Wynnith. Well, possibly from the unknown female, her face is kind of... hidden at the moment. Estelle's youngest sister reacted earlier in the the introduction, during Hawke's name. And she seemed more... distracted, as if it made her think of something or reminded her of something she can't pin down.

"I am grateful for the opportunity to visit and learn about your community," says Hawke, meeting the Matriarch's eyes with a polite smile.

Beinthalla scoffs, but quietly. Paerle offers a winsome smile to Hawke, her back arching subtly to draw attention to her bust. Which, to be fair, is the largest in the family from what Hawke can see. Which, given drow dress habits, is quite a lot.

"We are glad to be able to teach others our ways," the Matriarch says after a moment. "As rare as the opportunity is, it must be valuable for scarcity if no other reason, hmm?"

"Of course," says Hawke deferentially, her gaze clearly drifting to Paerle's bust. _Play up the distraction, it should come across as a compliment, right?_

A compliment to Paerle, yes, given her pleased smirk, but the Matriarch shifts a little as if to gather Hawke's attention back. "And what do you hope to discover during your stay here... Lady zi'Hawke? What lessons learned, what aspect of culture explored?"

"Anything I can," she says, turning her attention back to the matriarch. She pauses a moment, then continues: "From what I've heard through Estelle, the rumors that had reached Nyra about your enclave are entirely unfounded, and I wish to bring the light of truth and firsthand experience back with me so that we may strengthen our diplomatic... ties."

That gets a stately rise of eyebrow from the Matriarch. "An interesting choice of words," she notes. Giving Hawke a thoughtful look, she starts to comb the female's hair absently with her fingers. "My Granddaughter speaks well of you. What are your thoughts on her? And speak in full," she orders, voice sharpening in some subtle fashion, a clear warning not to lie or evade the question in any way.

Estelle shifts slightly but it's almost unnoticeable even to Hawke a few three feet away. Claudia's slight flinch is much more noticeable, though still mostly hidden to people not paying attention or unskilled in noticing such. So basically no-one in the room aside from the kneeling female. And maybe Wynnith, who still looks like she's thinking about something else.

"I speak well of her, as well. I have found a real friend in Estelle, and I look forward to getting to know her wife Claudia as well. I have extended an invitation for them both to pay me a visit when they are able."

The Matriarch doesn't seem appeased- she probably wants a more... detailed report of Hawke's impression. Hawke stares back, waiting patiently, a polite smile on her face. _You want to know more, ask me something,_ she thinks but doesn't say.

"Continue," the Matriarch says after a moment. "Describe your... real friend. What do you think of her? Her family? Culture? Beliefs?" The hand on the whip hilt flexes slightly, her posture hinting that Hawke should be perhaps a touch more forthcoming.

"Estelle is a thoughtful, kind person, the sort that would not long survive in the sort of culture rumored to be yours. We have spoken at length about her beliefs and yours, and while I do not personally approve of every practice that is commonplace here, on the whole I find the culture merely different from Nyran, and not inferior or evil. Indeed, from what I have heard I would rather move here than Glaley." _Though that's mostly the sex._ "I have found Estelle to be considerate and gentle, and I have seen her take on the difficult task of trying to understand and reconcile beliefs from other cultures that are strange or foreign, considering whether they are useful to her personally or can teach her anything about her own culture. As I have been doing the same, I understand how difficult it can be, and I commend her for her efforts. I feel a friendship between us on a personal level and between our cultures would benefit both parties extensively."

Well, she certainly has everyone's attention now, even the kneeler's, though that gets redirected quickly with a quick nudge of thigh. Alaedha and her sister are attempting to weight Hawke's words, though Beinthallia seems much more disbelieving. Paerle seems mostly pleased, though there was just a hint of something... disdainful? Mocking? Something in her eyes before she smothered it. Wynitth is finally looking at Hawke again, brow slightly furrowed.

Matriarch Feythal, however, smiles. "I see... I am pleased that my Granddaughter's judgment and wisdom continue to prove worthy of her name." She rises to her feet, uncaring of the woman in front of her, something that proves unneeded as she moves out of the way without issue. Not even remotely bothered by exposing herself so blatantly, she gestures to the room.

"You are all dismissed. Famiglia Primaria, Lady zi'Hawke, remain," she orders.

The guards all vanish quickly along with the servant. As she rises to leave, Hawke can see that the kneeler isn't in fact a drow, but instead a tiefling with coloring very similar to drow. The horns are a bit of a give-away however, as are the familiar slitted triple-iris eyes. She's also not as well built as every drow female she's seen, nor as tall, but that'd been hard to notice in her previous position. Also very noticeable are the metal plates in the shape of smallclothes that covers her privates, upper and lower, that must be stuck on with magic given the lack of straps.

Wynnith gives one last fleeting look at Hawke, then leaves rapidly to go back to what she'd clearly been wanting to do the whole time. Paerle leaves slower, making sure saunter past Hawke as tantalizingly as possible. She slows just a bit when she's within arm's reach, offering an inviting look, before moving past. The female behind Bienthallia carefully extracts herself and leaves without a word, though Alaedha gives her arm a quick stroke and pat.

Claudia hesitates the longest, stretching up to press a kiss to her wife's cheek before curtsying and then leaving. As she turns, she mouths 'good so far' to Hawke encouragingly.

Hawke is glad she's not expected to speak; a little of the old fear rises up in her when she sees the tiefling, though she lets it go a moment later. _Devils on my mind, I guess. Breathe, think of Andy._ At least it's not getting cold.

Once everyone has left, Matriarch Feythal sits back down. Her daughters don't bother to rise, though Beinthallia does shift so she's next to her sister instead of almost across her lap. She continues to study Hawke warily, though no-one seems to take any real note of this, so perhaps it's something she just does? She does seem pretty... tense and edgy.

Estelle steps back to take Hawke's head, walking her forward so they're at the bottom of the dias where her sisters had been at. Matriarch Feythal puts the whip handle into a discreet cubby on the side of her throne as she settles in. "My Granddaughter mentioned you're married to a woman, lead a family- a Clan, she named it- and take lovers as you please," she comments after a moment. "That's... unusual behavior, is it not?"

"Unusual, but not unheard of," she says, with a nod. "It has not prevented me from earning my title as a Guiding Light. I do not keep it secret."

"How did such a curious lifestyle come about?" the Matriarch asks, hand dipping down to continue what the tiefling had been up to. Next to her, Estelle's eyes follow the hand with avid interest.

Hawke's gaze follows her hand, but then trails its way back up to the Matriarch's face -- slowly, taking its time, not like she's ashamed. "As all the best things seem to: on accident, haphazardly, and with great adversity. I lost my virginity to an elf and a merikos drow at the same time, and I never stopped being with either of them. Eventually I realized I wasn't wired to love only one person."

That gets some attention for sure. "A merikos _drow_?" Matriarch Feythal asks.

A beat later, Bienthallia adds, "and an _elf_? What, was the drowblood a slave?" Which causes a very soft but worried hiss from Estelle.

"No," Hawke says sharply, before backing off a little. "In Nyra, no single culture dominates. My wife, Merrill, is a full-blooded elf, one who left her Tribe because she did not feel at home there. She prefers Nyra. My other lover, the drowblood, runs -- I believe you do not have this concept, but essentially, a house where pleasure is for sale. He is magnificent, with both a good sense for financials and a keen grasp of the business itself."

"It's called a brothel, a place where employees called prostitutes can be rented, similar to how we would be gifted with personal servants form an allied Famiglia," Estelle chimes in. "Instead of leaving tokens in thanks for their care and time, you simply pay a set fee."

"Surfacers will barter anything, won't they?" Alaedha says with a hint of bemused wonder, mostly to herself.

"You seemed rather offended by my Daughter's comment," the Matriarch observes.

"I do not hold with slavery, slavers, or any who deal with them positively." Her tone is cold. "It is one of the few hard limits I hold." She takes a deep breath, and her tone warms. "That said, Estelle has told me you also do not endorse such a thing."

"And her word was sufficient?" Her fingers pause a moment as she glances at Estelle before returning her focus to Hawke. "It seems this drowblood made quite an impression, to have... prepared the way for my Granddaughter so well." Estelle shifts a little at the subject the conversation has moved to.

"If I see something like that while I am here, I will be disappointed," the Champion says, with all the self-confidence of a hero.

Bienthallia shifts as if to rise but settles as her Mother's gaze lands on her from behind. "Well, then it is good such will not and cannot occur. I would hate for you to be disappointed," she says slyly, her fingers moving faster. Both of her daughters seem to twitch ever so slightly, but it's controlled rapidly.

"Claudia seems to like her as well, despite some... concerns that arose for reasons of petty important, so I am hopeful that I will be able to assure her satisfaction with her visit personally," Estelle chimes in, sounding very pleased- and slightly pissed in the middle.

"I am glad we have come to an agreement on that," she says, her eyes darting down to watch the Matriarch's fingers once more.

Matriarch Feythal smirks, pleased with how... receptive Hawke is being. _It remains to be seen if she's truly as accepting as she makes herself out to be, or if she is simply willing to mouth whatever words are required to bed Estelle. Or whoever she can convince,_ she muses, having noticed how openly Hawke looked at herself and Paerle. "Hmmm. Truth be told, slavery always seemed a foolish system. The resources needed to keep them contained, to control them, to fight off do-gooders with a cause... far, far more efficient to be more clever, to find out what people want, what they need, and be sure you can provide it to them the best. In exchange for their loyalty and service, of course."

Hawke's eyes narrow, but she doesn't argue, keeping her tone mild. "Yes, I always find happy, well-paid employees make better employees."

"Do you have employees of your own then?" the Matriarch asks curiously. "Estelle was not really able to speak much on your... economic position, I think sums it up well."

"I have established and manage a number of medical clinics in Nyra, though that's mostly hands-off. Furthermore, I own a number of businesses, primarily booksellers shops, and I help Zevran with a lot of his hiring and employee retention." Not that he needed her help -- but sometimes people would be more candid talking to someone who isn't their usual boss, and she was happy to help them figure out how to raise grievances if they were shy or timid.

"Zevran?" Matriarch Feythal asks, sitting up abruptly. "That is a drow name," she observes, eyes boring into Hawke's. Just down the dais, Alaedha has stiffened, her eyes snapping to Estelle.

"My drowblooded lover," she replies simply.

"I did not get a chance to met him, but Hawke says that we share more than a few similarities in feature," Estelle adds quietly. "And that he's about thirty years old."

Alaedha sucks in a deep breath, then glances back at Matriarch Feytha, who has steepled her fingers against each other. "And do you know his parentage?" the eldest drow in the room asks Hawke softly.

"I do not." Her tone remains matter-of-fact.

"Based on my Granddaughter's demeanor, I assume you already realize why this has caused this reaction?" Matriarch Feythal asks, untensing as the slight shock fades. "Would you be willing to have your... lover reveal what he knows about his parentage? Or have him partake in a bloodline divination ritual?"

"That's up to Zevran," she says, casually. "I plan to ask him when I get back to Nyra, but I can't say whether he'll agree."

"Up to him? Just order-"

Estelle, rather bravely, cuts her mother off before she can push Hawke any further. "Nyrian culture, Mother. Hawke has the love and loyalty of my- of her lover. Not his obedience." She gets some fairly displeased looks from Alaedha and Beinthalla, but her Grandmother seems amused.

"I generally find if I have to order someone's loyalty, I don't really have it," she says, offhandedly.

Beinthalla surges to her feet. "Listen here you li-"

Again, one of the sisters is cut off, but this time it's by their Mother's rather delighted laughter. "Oh, that was lovely, Lady zi'Hawke. A trifle direct, perhaps, but sometimes a lunge is better than a riposte. You may address me as Matriarch Feythal," she says before waving at them all. "And you are dismissed for now. Paerle, remain. Lady zi'Hawke, Granddaughter, please join me for dinner tonight, along with your wife," she adds as an afterthought.

Estelle's eyes widen, just a hair, then she dips into a deep curtsy, deeper than her greeting. "Thank you Grandmother, I am honored by your invitation."

Hawke gives a bow as well, just as deep as before. "I look forward to it, Matriarch Feythal."

Estelle links her arm with Hawke, guiding her her out of the room. Bienthallia pushes past them, tossing an annoyed glare at Hawke as she does so. Emerging from the room, they don't get more than a dozen feet before Claudia suddenly becomes visible. "Well, how did it go? Everything go alright?"

"Oh yeah, that went great, I used my patented Hawke Charm," she says, disarmingly rubbing the back of her head with a slight blush. "I'm lucky she didn't gut me."

"Aunt Bienthalia maybe, but Grandmother actually _laughed_ and then invited us to dinner," Estelle says with a scoff. "All three of us in fact. I think maybe _just_ the three of us. Tonight."

Claudia's eyes widen. "Oh sweet Alydra," she breathes out softly. "I'm not ready for a private dinner with the Matriarch. This was the first closed audience I've ever been to, I can't-" Estelle lets go of Hawke, quickly pulling Claudia in for a hug.

"You'll be in good company? I'm even more clueless. You'll look poised and polished next to me even if you, I don't know, call her old to her face or something."

"That's not that insulting," Estelle says, slightly distracted. "If you're old, you're still alive."

"Elders are also easier to kill," she replies. "Though that's less true in Nyra than in Golden Shores."

"And even less so here," Claudia replies, shuddering. "It's a common saying that a drow knows two ways to kill an enemy for every year they've lived. And three ways to make them wish they were dead instead."

Estelle smirks. "I like that saying," she says brightly. "But we need to focus. Tonight. Basic manners are more or less the same as the fine dining I was part of in Nyra. It's not a formal dinner, so things are relaxed anyway. You will need to dress up- or dress down, if that's how you want to go," she asks with a wink.

"Would it help?" the diplomat asks, brightening. "It looked like they wanted to eat me alive when I first walked in."

Estelle considers it a moment. "Well... maybe," she says, almost surprised. "Grandmother was testing you, seeing if I was claiming you were less prudish than you are with her Favored, but near the end, she was.... maybe flirting with you. I think. She's very hard to read. Don't go naked though. Dressing sexy is good, being naked is... well, it sort of implies you're a..."

"Comfort worker?" Claudia offers. At Estelle's look, she shrugs. "It's not a perfect translation, but it's closer to the intent than the literal version."

"Comfort worker then. Which would be a blow, given your tentative ranking as a Matriarch."

"Sexy it is." Hawke blinks, then adds, "I hope to Astea you can help with that, because I am not really a sexy dresser."

"Chains," Claudia blurts out, then reddens. "Not chains-chains. Remember that chainlink shirt I had made to try and... anyway, it should fit Hawke, right? Well, it'd show more of her stomach but that's good so... The links are about the size of a grain of rice, it's not useful as amour at all, but that and a really tight, really short leather skirt..." She eyes Hawke with interest, then looks away as her blush deepens.

"That might work... it's enchanted, right? For comfort and sizing?" Estelle asks, getting a nod from Claudia. "You can wear that over your skin then. It'll hint but not outright show. Unlike what some people might think, subtlety is more alluring than blatant displays." Can't imagine who she's insulting...

"I like the idea of wearing something like my normal armor, even if it's not protective. Might stop a blade anyway, if there's not too much force behind it. And it's a blunt dinner knife."

"Neither of us are going to come at you with a knife and the Matriarch's weapon bypasses armour," Claudia points out.

"Not unless you give consent first anyway," Estelle murmurs. "Though I prefer whips and paddles." Claudia's eyes go glassy as her mind starts conjuring up some very interesting images.

"Down, girl," she laughs.

"Right here?" Estelle purrs. "How foward of you, my dear Hawke."

She wiggles her eyebrows. "You want to push me?" she purrs right back. "I won't flinch."

Estelle smiles faintly, head tilting towards Claudia. "Ummm... I really, really want to... see but... not yet? Please?"

Her wife instantly takes a step back. "Another time, mio piccolo falco allettante. Come, we should find somewhere private to talk anyway."

"Our room is closer than Hawke's," Claudia suggests, still flushed.

"Your room it is," Hawke crows, lifting her head and pretending she hadn't been flirting a moment before.

Estelle pouts playfully. Then, with a wicked gleam in her eye, quickly strikes out and slaps Hawke on the ass rather smartly before sweeping away with a giggling Claudia. "Come along then," she says airily.

Hawke laughs, following. "Yes, ma'am," she teases.

Estelle and Claudia's chambers are rather cozy, to be honest. Small for their status, of course, with just a ten foot by ten foot parlour slash hallway that leads into the bedroom to the left and their sitting room straight ahead. Glancing into the bedroom as they head for the sitting room shows it's twice the size of the parlour, but most of that is taken up by a bed. She also spots a room leading out- perhaps a bathroom? A water closest at least, surely. The sitting room is between the other two rooms in size, the back wall taken up with a couch that seems to be built into the room. The other walls are covered in shelving, an orderly mix of books and trinkets.

Claudia ducks off to get the clothing she suggested while Estelle flops backwards onto the couch. "How are you doing?" she asks softly. "Our rooms are secure," she adds.

Hawke shakes her head. "I'm alright. I... didn't expect that particular comeback, but I see where she was coming from."

Estelle gives her a curious look, then pats the spot next to her on the sofa. "How so?"

"I care rather more about people than most, I think," she says with a wry chuckle. "If you see the world in terms of power, who has it and who doesn't, well..."

"Ah. Yes, Grandmother... she does care, just... not about anyone but her family. Everyone else is just a benefit or a hinderance to the happiness and wellbeing of her family. She hungers for power because she never wants to..." Estelle hesitates, then nods. "I told you about Zevran? The other- Grandmother's twin? And how he was... important to our history, but I did not explain why." She shifts a little. "Join me?"

Hawke moves to sit with Estelle. "I'm listening," she says, sitting sideways enough that she can see Estelle's face.

"Grandmother doesn't... talk about it often. Or ever in detail. But when she was younger, she was in my place- eldest full-blood granddaughter of the then Matriarch. Her twin brother, younger by seventeen minutes, was named Zevran. He was tall and strong for a male, and smooth with his words, so he was quickly trained as an agent. Sent to the surface to spy and... do other such things." She pauses only a moment as Claudia enters the room. Realizing what's going on, the merikos gnome quietly sets the clothes aside and, after a brief hesitation, takes a spot on the couch next to Hawke.

"There's a spell that can make a drow appear as an elf you see. It's more than illusion and very hard to detect. He... evidently, he wooed and bedded a noble elf, a daughter and I think heir to a very powerful family. But he grew to care for her and... Zevran returned home with some minor trinkets, some intel about his lover's rivals. But he was supposed to come back with much, much more- the woman at the least, a full invasion plan preferred." Estelle pauses a moment to glance at Hawke.

The magus nods, slowly. "He fell in love."

"Maybe," Estelle sighs, shrugging slightly. Claudia however, nods vigorously, clearly agreeing with Hawke's take on things. "Regardless of his reasoning, he was... not well received. The then Matriarch ordered him killed. Sacrificed as an offering to," Sirena, "as both apology and warning to others."

Estelle smirks then. "Grandmother has always been... precocious, however, and she'd realized what was going to happen as soon as Zevran starting referring to the elf woman by name in his reports. It's unusual for males to be... close to females, but twins are special perhaps. So she knew him well enough that she was ready on his return. Her coup failed, of course- as good as she is, she was only eighty and some. But they and her inner circle managed to escape the city, along with a few other allies from other Famiglia's that were also questioning the way of things. So... in a very real way, that Zevran is the cause of all of this," she concludes, gesturing around them.

"Twins are definitely special that way. Carver and Bethany were... very different, but I've never seen siblings so fiercely protective of each other." She smiles a little. "I think my Zevvy would be proud to know where his name came from." _Eventually_. "He's a charmer too, and he fell in love with me quite unexpectedly."

Estelle smiles faintly, shifting to lean against Hawke. "She swore to herself that she'd never fail again- Zevran was hurt badly in the failed coup, his right arm eaten away by cursed fire. He survived but never healed. Passed away a few years after Mother was born. Grandmother will do whatever is needed to ensure she'll not fail her family like that twice."

Hawke nods, wrapping an arm around Estelle comfortably. "I can imagine."

The drow shifts, slipping an arm around Hawke as well, though she rests her hand on the back of Claudia's neck instead of on Hawke. "Which is not to say she can't be a ruthless bitch when she has to be," Estelle allows. "Even with us. I suspect Mother is... not enjoying her private talk right now."

Hawke sighs. "That I can imagine as well, even if I'd not be that way."

"How do you handle failure and disobedience in your Fam- err, Clan, I mean?" Claudia asks curiously.

"I don't really have much of an issue with disobedience. If I ask for something, they know there's a good reason, and I don't abuse that. And if they can't do it, they tell me why and I change the plan. As for failure... They did their best. I can't ask for perfection, I'm not even that good myself."

Estelle coughs a little. "I may have... implied that Hawke's authority over her Clan is more... absolute than it is in truth," she murmurs, gently stroking the back of Claudia's neck.

"That too," she shrugs. "But you're not the first to call me Matriarch."

"Oh?" Estelle asks, fighting a smile at the way Claudia is leaning into her touch. And not uncoincidentally, into Hawke. _Just as planned._ she thinks to herself, pleased.

"I think it was about ten minutes after I proposed becoming a Clan," she laughs, sliding her other arm around Claudia. "I think the preferred terminology is that I'm the... heart, I guess. But I'm the thing that links us all together, and the one who seems to be steering the ship."

Claudia jolts a little at the arm, but doesn't seem to mind after that initial surprise. "So... okay. We have like... four hours until dinner. So that's about two hours to kill, forty-five minutes to plan, then an hour to get ready," Claudia says. "So... tell me about yourself?"

"I hate talking about myself. How about I tell you about my Clan instead?"

"Same thing really, isn't it?" Claudia points out with a smile. "Like describing the shape of a thing instead of it's color."

She raises an eyebrow, then nods. "I suppose you're right. Alright, let's start with my Papa."

Over the next two hours, Hawke quickly realizes that Claudia is friggen smart. Like maybe smarter than her or Varric smart. She lacks experience and her social skills are... stunted. Nice girl, sure, but she can't read people very well, and doesn't seem to have much grasp on how to figure out people's motivations. Estelle must be working double time to keep her protected... which has recently been shown to them both as not having been the best idea.

After talking about each of her Clan, Hawke is pressed to share a few stories about herself as well- how did she discover her unique style of magic, how did she become a Light, what's the coolest thing she ever saw, has she ever met a dragon? You _fought_ a dragon? _Three of them? Wait, **six?!**_

Eventually however, the focus shifts to Claudia. As Hawke had realized, she doesn't really have any friends, aside from Estelle and her handmaid, another merikos gnome who came with her when moved into the Emerison territory when she was ten. Most of her time is spent reading anything and everything she can get her hands on. And building things, intricate clockwork apparatuses that do... stuff. Estelle does her best, but it's pretty clear that she can't follow more than a quarter of what Claudia talks about, and as obtuse as the younger woman is, that can't be hidden forever. Hawke, while not an engineer either, is smart enough to be able to follow along with at least half of it. Something which delights Claudia to no end. Makes Estelle a little wistful, but she seems pleased that Claudia is happy. And also that she and Hawke are... getting closer.

They do have to get down to business at some point, as much as they'd probably prefer to eat in at this point, so talk turns to dining manners. As Estelle promised, most of it is pretty similar to what Hawke is used to- most manners boil down to 'don't be messy or gross' after all. They go over the minor differences- Hawke can't help but be somewhat amused that Estelle thinks to mention that it's considered rude to get any of your... fluids on the food without permission- but those are easy enough for the magus to learn. Which leaves them with dress up time.

With a sigh, Estelle untangles herself from the cuddle, then starts disrobing. "Alright, let's get changed."

Hawke nods, watching Estelle for a moment too long before she gets to her feet as well. "Hand with my armor?" she asks, casually.

"Sure," Claudia blurts out, springing to her feet. "Ummm. How, uh, what kind of help? I mean... how do you... want me to..."

Hawke laughs, talking her through reaching the little catches she's had made into her armor to make it easier to remove. _Why do they always put them in such damned inconvenient locations?_ Once that's gone, she makes no qualms about removing her tunic, rolling down her leggings "Will this breastband work?"

"Nope," Estelle replies cheerfully. "No breast band a'tall."

She blinks, then shrugs. "If you insist." She moves to untie the band, revealing the gnarled knot of scar tissue in the middle of her chest -- something Estelle's seen, but only during sex and thus at a bad time to ask. Estelle is too accustomed to scars- from battle or play- to really pay it much mind, but Claudia is both less accustomed to seeing such things and younger, less able to control her impulses. And so...

"Oh wow, how did that happen?" she blurts out, then covers her mouth with a wince.

"Crossbow bolt to the chest," she says, shrugging. "It won't show, will it?"

"It will but... scars are not considered unappealing," Estelle says slowly. "The chain is designed to be worn directly over skin. It has some comfort enchantments on it so it won't pinch."

"It's actually pretty comfortable," Claudia says, distracted again, but this time by the sight of Hawke's breasts. "Pale," she murmurs, glancing down at her own chest.

"Small," she corrects, making a face. "I'd rather it not show if we can do anything about it."

"Pretty," Claudia counters, fiercely if a little awkwardly.

"A perfect mouthful in my estimation," Estelle says slyly, studying the scar thoughtfully. "What are your thoughts on shibari?" she asks slowly, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Claudia lets out a soft moan, then ducks her head.

Hawke's eyes light up. "Gods yes. Uh, but, fair warning, I might get distracted if you go overboard."

Claudia whimpers softly. "It's Claudia's weakness as well," Estelle says with a purr, stroking her wife's cheek with the pad of her thumb. "But for this, I'll leave off the... special knots and just go for a decorative pattern. If I make the cross point between your breasts, it should cover it up fairly well. Then we just put the chain over top and tada! In fact... if I go a bit more elaborate below the waist, we could skip the leather skirt and just weave some ribbon in the rope instead?"

"Can I..?" Claudia begs.

"Help or wear similar?" Estelle asks with amusement.

"...both?"

"We can match," laughs Hawke.

Thirty minutes later and both merikos ladies are wearing only foot after foot of supple silk rope. Hawke has a sunburst pattern over her breastbone that then becomes a basic net pattern starting at her waist and covering her thighs. Claudia however, leaves her breasts almost bare with just a ring of rope that causes them to jut outward. Her lower half, however, is very well layered, including a strand that is getting very personal indeed. Hawke also discovered that Claudia is both into body adornment rather heavily, having a total of five piercings below the neck and, while groomed, doesn't follow the elven style for body hair. Elven was popular in Nyra; elves naturally don't grow body hair, and Hawke had taken to shaving or waxing to emulate the look.

"That was harder than I thought it would be," Estelle admits, taking a step back to admire her work. "Remind me to never do that again if we're on a deadline."

Claudia just whimpers again, the only response she's been able to make for the last ten minutes.

"I appreciate it," Hawke replies, trying to keep her tone neutral, though her voice is a bit husky.

"Sweetie, you want me and Hawke to give you a moment or two?" Estelle asks softly. Claudia nods carefully, not moving. "Right, Hawke, let's see what I have for ribbons in my dresser?"

Hawke follows Estelle to the dresser, obediently. "What color are you thinking? Or mixed?"

As they leave the sitting room to head towards the bed chamber, Hawke can hear Claudia's breathing speed up. "Oh, mixed for sure. Do you have any preferences? Does your Clan have official colors or the like?"

"No, nothing official, but I'm partial to green."

"Hmmm. Perhaps a mix of greens fading to browns? And maybe do a few golds on your chest? A trifle elven, but that might be good. Make it clear you're not ashamed or hiding your bloodline," Estelle muses.

"I could see that. What would a drow wear?"

"Their Famiglia colors, most likely. Possibly with a personally favored hue if it matches. If they were trying to be discreet or were attending a function that's solely of their own Famiglia- which would mean everyone would match too closely- they might drop one of the two Famiglia colors and pair the other with their preferred," Estelle explains. "If they're feeling very bold, they might pair their Famiglia colors with the colors of a Famiglia they're attempting to curry favor with. Or marrying into."

"I'm not feeling _that_ bold," she teases. "Maybe green, gold, and scarlet?"

"Amusingly apt- ruby and silver are our colors, so you wearing scarlet would be a nod without a direct statement," Estelle agrees with a nod. "Any reason for the colors?"

_Aveline's hair, Zevran's eyes, and Merrill's favorite color._ "Just colors I like."

Estelle considers her for a moment "Methinks you're holding back on me... but I suppose I can't pry it out of you quite yet, hmmm?" She laughs softly, then turns to her dresser to look for the right ribbons. "So what do you think of Claudia?" she asks, trying to keep the playful tone in place but unable to entirely mask the serious undertone.

"She's lovely, she really is. She and my Papa would get along famously, and I bet you if she met my friend Helene they'd be instant friends."

"Why do you think that? About your... Papa and friend, I mean?"

"They're both wicked smart, like her. My papa has a real dry sense of humor, he'd tease her, and she seems to be a good sport about a lot of things, so I bet she'd enjoy it like I do. Helene is real shy and awkward, it'd be good for both of them to recognize that they're not the only person like that, and Helene is ancient, so it's not like they're just too young to have grown out of it."

"Claudia is fifteen, I'd hardly have expected her to grow of much of anything other than being a child," Estelle comments.

She shakes her head. "No, not Claudia, Helene. They're too old, not her."

Estelle glances over her shoulder for a second. _Just need to find green..._ "Pale or dark green? And what race is this Helene?"

"Either works," she says casually. "Helene is a Samsaran, I believe it's called?"

"I've never heard of them before," Estelle admits. "Are they aberrations? Insectoid?"

"What? No. They're humanoids, with blue skin. They reincarnate naturally, so Helene can almost remember being Dakesh in their last life."

"So... why are you calling this person 'they?'"

"Uh, that's the pronoun they prefer," she says, with a shrug. "I'm not sure if it's a Samsaran thing or a Helene thing, but they got a bit testy when I asked, so I figured I'd let it drop. They did say they're not a sir or a ma'am, either, they prefer to be addressed as Bright or Seeker."

"How strange," Estelle replies absently. _Not really important or anything, but strange._ "Ah, here we go," she says victoriously, yanking out a ribbon from the drawer of them. "I was starting to think the one I was looking for was still being cleaned."

"Ooh, that's a nice green," says Hawke appreciatively.

"How are you doing on being teased?" Estelle asks, draping the ribbons over her shoulder as she turns around. She then leans back a little against the dresser, presenting her nude body for Hawke's viewing. "Can you handle a bit more without any pop?" She pauses. "Well, I suppose we could give you the room if you wanted," she notes wickedly.

She groans. "You're wicked. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Aww, you're so sweet," she coos back at the magus. "So... another game or do you need to cry off?"

She whimpers. "You'll be the death of me. Alright, then. I may as well enjoy myself before dinner."

Estelle laughs, a rich, husky noise- and one that gets a 'wait, wait, I wanna watch whatever that's about!' from the other room. Estelle tries, she really does, but that just makes it worse. Instead of laughing, she snorts. Loudly.

Hawke doubles over, making no attempt to avoid laughter. "Priceless."

Claudia hustles into the room, then stops, frowning. "This is... decidedly less erotic than I was hoping for," she observes, which just makes Estelle transfer her glare from Hawke to her. Claudia eeps, and shuffles to the side, behind Hawke. And then stills, her head ducking down a little. "Or... never mind," she mutters, staring at the bent over woman wearing nothing on her bottom half but ropes.

"We have **got** to come to some kind of arrangement," Hawke decides. "And also, when you're of age, you **really** have to visit Voice. We'll throw a week-long birthday party for you."

Claudia jumps away, averting her gaze as she reddens. "Umm, w-w-what?" she sputters.

"Voice?" Estelle asks. "Wait, isn't that, ah, your Zevran's brothil? The place where you can rent comfort workers?"

"Yeah. Voice in the Darkness, formally. I held my wedding celebration there."

"Gods, you're such a drow," both of them say in unison, then double-take.

"Hah! I blame Zevvy," she jokes.

"Right, well... close your eyes," Estelle orders. "Hawke, close your eyes, Claudia, I suspect you'll want to watch," she clarifies with an amused tone. Blushing a little, Claudia opens her eyes and moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hawke grins, closing her eyes. "Alright."

Estelle ties the first ribbon as a blindfold, then leans in to whisper, "do you mind if Claudia helps attach the ribbons? Just teasing, no... finale." Hawke pauses for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, before nodding. "Thank you," she whispers, breath tickling Hawke's ear. She kneels down, her hands lightly ghosting over Hawke's sides. Resting a hand on the swell of her hip, she selects a ribbon. "Sweetie- you just gonna sit there or you gonna help me dress up our toy?"

Hawke hears nothing for a beat, then there's a squeak of springs and a mad scramble as Claudia darts over to help. "Umm... what..."

Deciding to keep the mystery, Estelle switches to drow to answer. "We're just teasing her. So you can brush up against her flower and buds, but don't touch. Keep it light and stop if she asks."

Claudia nods eagerly as she takes a ribbon off her wife's shoulder. She licks her lips nervously, then slowly reaches out towards Hawke. She starts for the cluster between her breasts, but her nerve falters and she ends up slipping one under a cord going across her stomach instead.

Hawke shivers a little. "Huh. Never tried this before; I see why Merrill likes it."

Estelle lets out a soft moan of her own. "Bondage, dominance, exhibition _and_ blindfolds? You lucky bitch, you. If you tell me she like to watch and enjoys some pain, I may actually have to try and steal her for our harem," she says playfully, winking at Claudia.

"No idea on the pain part," she says, with a smirk.

Claudia, while listening avidly, is distracted by her focus on winding a ribbon every so carefully around and around a rope crossing over Hawke's hip. She's not being too overt about it, but she's clearly copping a feel of her outer thigh as she does so.

"Bitch," Estelle says sweetly before pinching Hawke on the bum. Not enough to bleed, or even leave a read mark for very long, but enough to test Hawke's reaction to it.

"Ah! Don'tdothat," she blurts, in surprise.

"Why not?" Estelle asks, then quickly adds, "I mean, what part of it was bad? The shock, the location, the degree?

"Ah, I'd, I'm not comfortable with pain when I can't see what you're about to do, I think," she says, her heart racing.

"Ah, it's being combined with the blindfold? I can see that. And you can't," Estelle says. "How about this, to make it better. There's the sounding of kissing, then the feeling of two fingers pressing into the check where she'd just pinched.

Claudia sighs quietly. "Your skin is really soft..."

Hawke swallows a moan. "Thanks," she croaks.

"You, uh, you could... directly, if you..." Claudia says hoarsely.

Estelle shits to the side so she can see Claudia's face. "Thank you love, but give permission again later, okay? When you're not about to pop again," she says with a hushed laugh. "If Hawke is alright with me kissing her body, of course?" she asks sudden and clearly fake concern.

She whimpers. "Damn you, yes."

"Starting to see why you enjoy doing this to me so much," Claudia whispers. "Can... can I kiss you? Not... there, just... you?"

"Yes," she whispers. _Surely there's not a problem if she's not coerced into it, if she's not touching my parts, surely that can be fine, right?_

Claudia stands up straight, causing Hawke to loose track of her for just a moment. And then Hawke can feel lips on her own. Even as this is happening, the magus can feel Estelle's hands, fingers light and cool on her skin, gently stroking her legs as she works the ribbons into her outfit. Hawke moans into the lips, her muscles relaxing as she melts into the kiss. Claudia lets out a soft squawk, startled but receptive to the intensity Hawke brings to the kiss. It goes on a moment, then Estelle rises upwards, chest brushing along Hawke's back as her hands trail up Claudia's sides. And then she pushes her back, breaking the kiss. "How was she?" she whispers huskily, to Hawke, to Claudia, to both of them.

Hawke doesn't respond in words -- instead, she lets out a small noise from the back of her throat, halfway between a moan and a whimper. It's a sound familiar to Estelle -- a sound that means clearly, 'I want', as well as 'I can't have'.

Claudia sighs, her own eyes closed as well, She sways slightly, then leans back in so she can rest her head against Hawke's shoulder. "Tat uas 'ice," she mumbles thickly.

Estelle chuckles softly, arms going around the pair. "Exactly how I feel nearly every day, mio falco docile, flessibile. She is such... dolce desiderio. Sweet yearning," she repeats. "Never has a drow cared so much about the slow passing of time."

"I'm short-lived," Hawke whimpers.

"...shorter pregnancies?" Estelle offers weakly, pressing a kiss to the back of Hawke's neck, just under her ear.

"Hmmm," Claudia says, sliding her tongue under one of the ropes along the top of Hawke's breasts.

Hawke lets out another strangled whimper. "Living i-i-in the moment."

"Too much, amati," Estelle says, gently pulling Claudia away again. The merikos gnome whines disappointedly, but doesn't fight her rebuke. "We seem to have gotten a little distracted. We need to finish getting ready. But perhaps we can resume tonight, if you're both still so interested."

"I'm," she whimpers, swallowing. "Going to need a few minutes."

"We have... about five minutes of wiggle room, so... Do you want to cool down or... _pop_?" Estelle asks, nuzzling her ear.

"Oh yes please," Claudia whispers softly.

"Ahaha... no biasing her answer. Her choice... but it sounds like you'd like to watch? If she's okay with it."

"God I'd love that," the hero whimpers. "Yes, please, touch me."

"Hmmm, not yet... I can't get permission from Claudia when she's in this mindset," Estelle says regretfully as she pulls away. She moves around Hawke, grabbing Claudia's hand to pull her along as well as they head to the bed. "But we can watch while you... finish," she says brightly, pulling Claudia down with her, which elicits a throaty moan as the ropes around the younger woman tighten and rub. "As long as we're not touching, it's fair game."

Hawke whimpers, taking a few steps forward with a hand outstretched; when she finds the wall, she turns toward the bed unerringly, leaning her back against it for support. "Fair," she agrees.

"But that doesn't mean I can't help from afar," Estelle assures her, holding Claudia close. She cups herself, shooting a wicked look at Hawke, then orders, "lift your legs apart."


	5. Matriarch Feythal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke enjoys a pleasant dinner and a lovely dessert.

The three have to rush a little, but they do manage to arrive at the Matriarch's door in time. Barely. But on time is on time, right? Hawke and Claudia are wearing similar outfits of rope and ribbon, but where Hawke has the chainshirt providing minimal coverage of her torso, the merikos gnome is wearing a leather corset that covers her from pelvis to collarbone. Estelle went the other direction, wearing an elegant evening dress complete with gloves and train. Still no shoes though. Other than armour, Hawke hasn't seen a single drow wearing anything on their feet.

"Ready?" Estelle asks them both, smiling happily. _Today has been wonderful and it's not even close to be over. This might be a trap, it's certainly a test, but I do think Grandmother liked Hawke. So..._ "This should be fun. Try to have fun, both of you, alright?"

Claudia smiles weakly, more than a little nervous to be doing this. Estelle has always shielded her from this sort of thing before and... yeah.

Hawke keeps one hand on her staff as she walks toward the chamber. It's probably a bit against the etiquette to go armed into the Matriarch's presence, but she doesn't care; her staff is plain, not the decorative one she uses for Light business, and thus doesn't appear to present much of a threat. That's one thing she's really taken to heart from her lessons with Zevran: if you can turn anything into a deadly weapon, carrying something underwhelming can cause people to underestimate you. It's not quite the broken broom handle she used during the Memento Mori incident, but it's just as plain and unenchanted.

For now.

Estelle nudges Hawke with her hip. "Hawke, you there? You seem... elsewhen."

Hawke starts, blinking a few times, then gives a tired smile. "I'm a little sleepy, sorry," she says, casually.

Claudia snickers softly. "I wonder whyever for?" she asks innocently, tossing a rather effective naughty look at the two older women.

"Imp," Estelle says fondly. "Don't think you won't pay for that to-"

She breaks off as the door opens in front of them, the tiefling from earlier stepping out with a bow. She's wearing tight leather, but in her case, it's somewhat surprisingly armour. She also has a full dozen wands clipped to her belt and Hawke's practiced eye spots a wrist sheath on her left arm. "The Matriarch is ready to receive you," she says softly, her accent clipped and compressed.

Slipping an arm around Claudia, Estelle starts to enter the room but pauses as Claudia reaches out her own hand towards Hawke with a determined but simultaneously timid expression. Hawke takes Claudia's hand, flashing her a quick smile before they enter the room together.

Once they're inside the room, the tiefling woman closes the door behind them. Matriarch Feythal is already seated at the relatively small table, a very subdued looking Alaedha sitting next to her. The Matriarch is wearing the same thing from before, but her daughter is, as far as they can tell with her behind a table, naked.

Estelle dips into a curtsy, though not as deeply as she had during the closed audience. "Grandmother. Mother. We're very pleased to be joining you this evening to dine," she says, her voice still a little husky from their play.

Her wife simply dips into a deeper curtsy, not speaking.

Hawke bows yet again. She's not opposed to curtseying, not when she's wearing a skirt, but this outfit... it's quite exotic indeed, and these days she bows more than she curtseys simply because she wears trousers more than she wears skirts. So she's more comfortable doing so now.

Matriarch Feythal glances at them, gaze lingering on Hawke and even more on Claudia, then she snorts. "Looks like you've had a pleasing evening already," she says dryly, getting the gnomeblood to turn a deep pink. "You seem to be enjoying the chance to... taste a little darkness," is then directed at Hawke.

"I am," she says simply, meeting the Matriarch's eyes, as if daring her to find problem with that.

"Not afraid of being tainted? Taken?" she asks softly.

"Tainted? By sex?" She snorts. "There are those who say I'm already as depraved as they come. I'll take my chances."

"By us," she replies evenly. "By evil."

At her side, Hawke can feel Claudia tense a little, as well as see Alaedha's lip twitch slightly.

"Is that a confession?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me you're evil and I'll believe you. I'm no paladin, to be able to tell. But Estelle and Claudia just aren't."

"So sure of yourself?" the Matriarch asks softly. "Sure of them? Well... as you will. Please, be seated."

Estelle moves forward, tensing first to give a hint to Claudia so they can all move roughly at the same time. "Thank you Grandmother. And thank you Hawke, for your loyalty."

"I've seen evil. And destroyed it. It's kind of my thing." She moves to sit as she does, in step with Claudia and Estelle.

"Have you now?" Matriarch Feythal leans in a little, a somewhat distracting motion. As much as Hawke might hate to admit it, she's finally met someone that can invoke sex and arousal even more deftly than Zeran. The Matriarch is extremely skilled- makes sense, given their culture and her age. "I would like to hear a few stories over dinner on the subject. Speaking of which, can I offer you something to drink?"

"You can," she agrees. "I am accustomed to dwarven ales and hard liquors, so do not fear for my tolerance."

"How vulgar," Alaedha says with a half sneer, then stiffens. A split second later, Matriarch Feythal backhands her without so much as glancing in her direction. It wasn't an espeically powerful blow, but she didn't hold back either.

Claudia jumps a little and lets out a soft squeak before she recovers.

"If you say so," Hawke says airily. She doesn't let herself react to the blow, at least not outwardly. _Right, got to remember to keep a civil tongue in my mouth. Am I a Guiding Light or not?_

Matriarch Feythal leans back, silent and waiting. To her left, Hawke can see Estelle and Claudia being very still and quiet. After a minute or so, the Matriarch smiles coldly. "Forgive my daughter, she has... forgotten the principals I instilled into her as a child, and, along with them, her manners. Regardless. Tenachka!"

Instantly, the tiefling woman steps forward. Good to have a name for her. "Two bottles of blue wine. The velveted one," Matriarch Feythal orders, getting a bow and prompt movement as a reply.

Hawke smiles faintly. _I figured if I mentioned elven wine it'd be a bad move. I'm sure they drink Drowish wine. Which is never the same thing, of course._

Tenachka returns quickly with a tray holding two dark black bottles and four glasses. She sets it down, swiftly uncorks one, then fills the glasses with a dull blue fluid that fizzes softly as it's poured. "It's not nearly as... potent as the drinks you mentioned, but it does have a bite of a different sort," the Matriarch comments as glasses are put in front of herself and the three of them. Alaedha is rather conspicuously ignored.

She pauses after her comment, then frowns. "A bottle of spiced cider as well," she murmurs, eyes flicking to Claudia.

"Thank you Grandmother," Estelle murmurs, giving her wife a faint smile. "May I ask what you've selected for dinner?"

"Out of deference to our guest, I have selected a simple course of mushroom soup, oat bread, salad and then some baked apples," she replies airly. "And some boiled eggs for your wife."

 _Drow don't eat meat either? I should have guessed._ Hawke smiles. "That sounds lovely."

She gets a faint smile in reply. "You've not disappointed me yet, zi'Hawke," she replies simply. "But I thought it perhaps unkind to also make you sample our normal starter for a dinner."

"Oh?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Roaches, boiled in a stock white wine, then fried in a sweet mushroom sauce," Estelle offers. "That's Grandmother's prefered anyway, but some type of cockroach dish is traditionally the first course of any meal. They're plentiful, rich in protein and take well to flavoring."

"For some reason, surfacers get queasy when we offer them a skewer of roaches, mushroom chunks and grubs," the Matriarch says innocently, eyes glinting wickedly. So that's where Estelle got her sense of humor. Good to know.

Hawke laughs. "I can see why. I've never tried them, so for all I know they're delicious."

The matriarch leans in a little. "Would you be willing to try then?" she challenges Hawke.

She tilts her head. "I will try one," she decides after a moment. "I was blessed with the digestion of my human ancestors, so why not?"

"Tenachka, a tray of honeyed ants," Matriarch Feythal calls out. "You prefer meat then? It would be no trouble to have more eggs prepared, just as I have done for my granddaughter-electi."

Claudia smiles broadly, then ducks her head. It's in private, yes, but being called that is still significant.

"That would be nice," she agrees. "I don't keep to the elven style, despite my wife's preferences."

"And some more eggs," she calls out. "I apologize for not thinking to ask you for your preferences before setting the menu," the Matriarch adds, her head slanting to the side a quarter inch when her daughter stirs slightly.

"No worries," she says, with a smile. "I appreciate your consideration."

"I'm the Matriarch, girlie, worry is part and parcel of the position," she says dryly, turning back to Hawke when Alaedha goes still. "Though from the look of you, that's a lesson you've already learned very well."

Hawke laughs at that. "Of course. My papa taught me well: keep one eye on your enemies and two eyes on your friends."

"He sounds rather wise for a male. His mother must have been a great woman," Matriarch Feythal says, slightly bemused. "Or was it his wife that he was quoting?"

"I never met his mother, but he is unmarried. He's smarter than I am, in truth. Dwarven males aren't as subservient as drow males."

Feythal blinks twice. "A...dwarf? Hmm, I suppose that could happen, as you're merikos," she says slowly.

"Ah, her... Papa, Varric Tethras, is her adottato father. Her... chosen, legal father? As I understand it, Hawke does not have any living blood relations," Estelle explains diffidently.

"Not quite," she says casually. "My brother-by-birth is alive, but we're... quite estranged." Her face darkens for a moment, leaving it clear how she feels about that estrangement. "My father-by-birth was not part of my life as a child, but I have recently found and reconnected with him as an adult. But yes, my Papa is my father-by-law, not a blood relative. In general, when I speak fondly of family, it's family-by-law or family-by-choice, my Clan."

'Your males abandoned you? And you... just let them leave your care?" Matriarch Feythal demands, then visibly checks herself. "My Granddaughter spoke truly in this as well," she murmurs, giving Hawke a piercing look. "It is... hard, not to think of you as drow. But you are not."

"I am not," she agrees. "I don't want people in my Clan who don't want to be there. Carver was never part of my Clan; we are incompatible. I lost him, and I gained Zevran, Merrill, Aveline, Varric, Seli, Andy... I think that's a reasonable trade."

Alaedha shifts, clearly wanting to say something but just as clearly aware she's not allowed. Tenachka returns then with a pair of trays, one with bowls and a tureen, the other with a long platter of small black bumps glazed with crystallized honey. The Matriarch gestures for the later to be placed in front of Hawke, and thus by extension Estelle and Claudia.

"Let our guest try one first," Matriarch Feythal says firmly, stopping Estelle's rapid reach and getting a pout in reply. "You'd live off honeyed everything if you could."

"It's my favorite," she admits, then smirks at her wife and friend. "I love the taste of honey, of all kinds."

"I use my fingers?" she confirms, before reaching down to pluck one off the plate. She lifts it to her nose to give it a sniff, then pops it into her mouth, chewing. It's a strange taste, if only in how not strange it really is. Crunchy. A bit sticky, as one might expect. The honey is a deep, rich amber honey, flavored with dry spices, with a sharp, not quite bitter, not quite sour taste she assumes must be the ant. It's not gooey at all, the honey and ants both be fairly dried and hardened. "Not bad," she says after she swallows.

"They taste even better as a mid-sex snack. Sugar and protein, great for... helping you get back into things," Estelle murmurs softly, popping one into her own mouth.

Her Grandmother snorts. "The young... always thinking with their cunts. More to life than sex, Granddaughter... though I suppose it's not for the worst for you to indulge while you can. Your fire will bank soon enough."

"In Nyra, we tend to use fruits and nuts. I wonder if I could prepare nuts in this manner?" she muses.

"Umm, yeah. Sometimes they do a mix. Ants and nuts in the same batch. Well, you have to cook them separate, because the nuts take more time to cook," Claudia remarks softly as Estelle and Feythal get into a side discussion about youth's virtues and drawbacks.

"Fascinating! I would like to learn how, if you have some time later," she comments. _It's best not to jump into that one._

"Oh, I can't cook," Claudia says with a blush. "I... get distracted by things. And... experiment. Using low grade acid to cook fish via chemical reaction worked, but attempting to aerosolize the acid in order to speed up the process, uh, went badly. I, uh, dissolved the lines I was using to hold the fish above the herb fire I was using to flavor them... and the lines were maybe flammable once treated with acid? Or, well, combustive might be more accurate."

Hawke laughs. "That sounds like an amazing adventure," she giggles.

"I weaponed _fish_ ," Claudia repeats.

"Awesome. Adventure." Hawke laughs.

Claudia pouts, but she can't cover up the smile that wants to break out. ""I... might still have the aerolizer device," she admits. "I reworked the nozzle for a more... viscus fluid, so it can be used for oils," she says in a whisper. "I'm trying to figure out a way to safely add in an easily swappable shell around the reservoir that can hold a warming agent. If I can get it to work, I was going to go make it a gift for..." She flicks her eyes at Estelle, not wanting saying her name to get her attention.

"For-- I take it not for cooking, at that point?"

"Well, there might be eating involved," Claudia says with a smirk. "I was thinking massage oil. So it can be applied faster and more evenly, making the interruption of having to reapply the oil less disruptive."

"Ah, I see." She nods. "That might well work."

"I just need to figure out how to make it self-warming. A shell is easier to attach and replace, but runs the risk of burning your hands when you handle it," Claudia says, brow furrowing. "I was thinking of a core, with a cap to protect your hand, but that's harder to work. Warms it better too, but then there's more inner surface area for oil to cling as waste."

"It sounds like you need a spell of some kind," she muses. "Something that will only work on the interior but not the exterior of the container."

Claudia shakes her head, expression stubborn. "I don't use magic in my devices. Mundane knowledge only."

"That's commendable, if potentially a major hinderance."

"I'm not anti-magic," she adds, eyes widening. "Magic is great, I use it, I just... I just- I can't use it myself, and I want my work to be... mine."

"Ah," she says, with a knowing nod. "That makes sense."

"It does? Most people don't..." Claudia shrugs, glancing away to hide her blush. "Thanks," she mumbles.

"No, it does. It's a point of pride: you want to create things to prove that you can, not just to have them be created." She nods.

Claudia gives her a side eyed look. "Are you..." she cuts herself off, reaching out to take an ant.

"I don't create things, sadly. I'm much more of a tough. I do build clinics, but that's very different."

"Clinics? You're a healer?" she asks, clearly latching onto the new topic eagerly.

"I only have some small training, but I saw the need for more free clinics in Coalside, so I've begun opening them and hiring better healers to run them."

"Sounds almost like you're acting as the Matriarch of... this Coalside... place?" Claudia replies thoughtfully. "You might not have the talent the problem needs, but you have the ability to identify the problem, determine the solution, then arrange for the right asset to be in place. That's more rare than people think it is. You're lucky to have that..."

She nods. "They made me Magistrate of Coalside, but only temporarily. I'm too young to take on that kind of power permanently. But it was nice to have my efforts recognized."

"So you're... kind of like the Heir? Unofficially at least?"

"I... suppose you could say that," she chuckles. "It's more complicated, but yes, that's not terribly off."

"Huh. So, uh, what's a Coalside?" she asks curiously.

"Ah. Nyra is a very large city; over a hundred thousand people live there. It's divided into districts, of which Coalside is one. That's where I used to live, before I became a Light; Lights tend not to live there."

"A- A hundred _thousand_ people?" Claudia says, far too loudly. She hunches down after her outburst, looking mortified as everyone looks over at her.

"Something catch your attention?" Matriarch Feythal inquires.

"The population of Nyra," comments Hawke off-handedly. "It can be shocking to those who have not experienced cities firsthand."

"It was something of a shock, to see how... sprawling the city is, particularly when seen from above in the airship we chartered," Estelle agrees.

"I suppose so..." the Matriarch agrees.

"Some like to credit me with saving the entire city. A hundred thousand souls, on my head. I can't quite wrap my head around it, let alone believe it. The town I grew up in had perhaps a hundredth part of that."

Alaedha sneers slightly, though she manages to keep it silent and subtle. "That sounds like a very interesting story to start with," the Matriarch hints rather heavily.

"It's a wee bit heavy for mealtime, but if you don't mind, I wouldn't mind telling it." Hawke smiles, looking at the Matriarch. "It's my most famous adventure, you see. The one that gave me the title Queller of the Dead." _And Twice-Lived._

"Perhaps go light on the descriptions," Estelle suggests, not glancing at Claudia.

"Of course. It all started when my friend Seli -- that's, Joyous Seline, rather -- 's husband Lovan died. She began attending a grief support group run by one Johan Edwardson, out of the older temple to Mileen, the one no longer in use. Only, as it turns out, this wasn't a support group at all..."

She tells the story from there, skimming past most of the battle but including the prophecy bits as told to her by Zevran later. _Papa must have been able to figure out what the prophecy meant_ , she thinks, not for the first time. _I won't ever let him try to take my place like that again. I can't. I'm nothing without Papa._

"..and so, with my essence tangled up in the spell matrix as it was, I had few options. If I tried to use the spell for anything, it would come to a foul end -- the spell wants to be used for its original purpose, and it would not have taken well to my directing it, not with so much divine energy bound up in it. But I knew I had a few moments before it finished converting my body into the sort of foul undead thing that Johan wanted to become. In those moments, I was still mortal. So I did the only thing I could do: I tied off the spell, anchoring it to my essence, and then..."

She gives an awkward chuckle. "I died."

Claudia lets out a soft gasp, eyes wide. She'd been enthralled the entire time, only eating half her soup and none of her salad so far. The ending however...

"I thought as much," the Matriarch murmurs, studying Hawke. "And not the first time you've brushed death either, though that's the closest I suspect. I have a fair idea of what that sort of ritual would entail and it would take a mighty will to seize as you did. Even greater to turn it down."

Estelle is gripping Hawke's thigh under the table almost painfully and even her Mother looks a bit... taken aback by the tale.

"Yes, well, no-one ever accused me of being to biddable," she jokes, flashing a reassuring smile at Estelle. In truth, she'd rather not dwell on the dying, or the months after, but.. it's an impressive story, told out this way. "Of course, my Papa and the others managed to bring me back, for which I am eternally grateful."

"I as well," Estelle adds in throaty voice. "My visit would have been infinitely poorer had I not met you. It was... very good, to have someone that enjoyed being around me there. For more reason than my bust and hips at least."

"Not- not that they're not worth enjoying," Claudia offers, trying to act normal.

"Your body is lovely, but your heart is lovelier," says Hawke gently. "Anyone who can't see that is missing out."

 _I love Claudia dearly and truly, but damn what a wife you'd have made._ "Thank you, grazioso falco," Estelle replies tenderly.

"Realizing, really, truly realizing what it meant that the person who was so kind and patient, so beautiful and graceful and funny, was my wife was the best day of my life," Claudia adds. Estelle reaches around Hawke to take her hand, eyes glistening for a moment.

"I can imagine," says Hawke gently. "It's rather like the day I realized Merrill, sweet, innocent, pure Merrill, was in love with me, and not just tolerating me."

Estelle sighs a little. _I didn't grow up with the same kind of hate drow get underground, but still.. the idea of having an eager little elf, tied up in my bed, panting in desire as I caress her skin with both lash and fingers... oh my. And having Hawke behind me, her own hands exploring my body, her tongue tracing a line down my neck, all while Claudia watches us with hot eyes and soft, pleading whimpers._

"Youth," Matriarch Feythal says dryly, gesturing at the very distracted drow in front of her, one that's clearly rubbing her thighs together.

"It's all we're ever guaranteed in life," she teases. "May as well enjoy it."

"Hmmph," the Matriarch sniffs. "I'd rather work to ensure I got more than squander that chance just to wallow in the now."

"I'm not wallowing, just... lingering on a good thought," Estelle says, blushing faintly at being so blatantly distracted.

"Girl, I can smell you 'lingering' from here," her Grandmother replies, a faint smirk on her lips. Claudia snickers, nudging Hawke to give a wink.

Hawke grins. "My Clan tells me -- often and loudly -- that if I do not relax, I cannot work effectively."

"We had a nice relax earlier, didn't we?" Claudia says daringly.

Matriarch Feythal chuckles. _It wasn't that funny really, but the poor girl needs a little encouraging. It's good that my Granddaughter is finally realizing she needs to toughen her up if she's going to be anything more than a massive weakness once Estelle inherits._ "So... what do you think of this treaty, Lady Sage?"

"I think it's a positive step for both our communities," she says, simply. "Agreeing to come to the table together is step one of any good relationship."

"You're not worried about Nyra's reputation? Even if you think we're just wonderful people, many more will not. I've heard more than a few villages already under treaty with Nyra were very upset that we might be... aligned with them," the Matriarch probes.

"Let them." She waves a hand. "I'm not a very good politician, of course. I'm sure my other Lights will have much more nuanced arguments. But it is no secret that Nyra is a strange city, and we often do things that the villages are upset by. They can choose to leave our protection, but they won't. And we won't let them come to harm, so they will calm down eventually."

Strangely- or perhaps not- the Matriarch seems to approve her Hawke's high-handed stance on the matter. "Well put, Lady zi'Hawke. And on a personal level? Is this," she gestures between Hawke and Estelle, "just a bit of fun? A friendship? Or are you aiming for something more permanent?" Claudia's breath catches in her throat and Estelle starts to say something only to freeze at her Grandmother's stare.

"It's far too early to tell," she says simply. "I enjoy Estelle's company. I enjoy Claudia's company as well. I am not someone who requires permanent ties to enjoy someone's company, and I have a Clan of my own in Nyra. I would rather assume Estelle and Claudia would both prefer to live here rather than accompany me back to Nyra, and I cannot leave my home city. But I do wish to continue these friendships beyond the course of this visit."

Claudia beams at Hawke, then, clearly emboldened by her reply, adds, "besides, I wouldn't give _my wife_ up without a fight anyway. And I know how to fill a room with a cloud of acid that can't be dispelled or detected by magic."

All the drow at the table stare at Claudia, who reddens slightly but doesn't look away.

 _Perhaps she needs less toughing up than I suspected,_ Feythal allows. _Or perhaps Hawke has a much greater draw and influence to her than I give her credit for._

That gets a hearty laugh out of Hawke. "Well put. Rest assured, I have no desire to take her from you. I have never held my lovers to exclusivity, and would never do so. If we were to become lovers, it would have no bearing on your marriage."

"Sweetie," Estelle says warily. "Why do you... how did you come up with..."

That gets her to drop her gaze. "Ummm. Well. I was... trying to speed up chemical cooking for fish and... it got out of hand?"

The Matriarch snorts, then laughs aloud. Before Claudia can try and self-immolate, she says, "our trapmasters could use your help it sounds like. If you're willing, speak with them tomorrow and show them your method. Could be a nice addition to the front gates."

"Maybe that's a better calling for you than cooking," teases Hawke.

"I... suppose I could also adapt my ranged campfire," Claudia says, brow furrowing. "And my automatic heating gel... well, toxic fumes might be a feature for a trap."

Estelle smiles wanly. "I need to start trying to understand your rambles more," she mutters.

 _This is a much better way to learn that lesson,_ Hawke thinks with a smile, remembering the Moe adventure. "I'm sure you'll do great."

Claudia nods absently, mind occupied with this new angle of though. Weaponing her unsafe devices... genius.

"And what about you?" the Matriarch asks Hawke. "I've asked plenty from you... do you not have any questions for us?"

"Oh, loads," she says, offhandedly. "How do you deal with medical care in such a sexualized society to prevent the spread of STDs?"

"Ess-Tea-Des? I assume you mean things like crotch rot and sores?" the Matriarch asks, showing herself to very much not be a healer with her word choice. She sounds a bit taken aback to have such a... well, trivial question, in her mind at least. "Drow don't get those," she says simply. "Other diseases, yes, but not any of those nature. And the gnomes have their own methods, I presume."

"You--" She gapes for a moment, then whistles. "Well. Now I wish my mother had met one of your males instead. Alright, fair enough. How do you handle sustainable food production without as much farmland as Golden Shores needed? I presume the insects are a part of it?"

The next hour and a half passes much the same. Claudia is distracted for most of it, though she does emerge after an hour. Mostly. Estelle chimes in from time to time, but is mostly just pleased that Hawke and her Grandmother seemed to be getting along. Alaedha never speaks, nor eats a bit the entire dinner. Even the tiefling servant is given a glass of spiced wine and a baked apple treat, though she eats it standing off to the side.

Finally, the meal ends. Alaedha is waved back into Feythal's chambers, but instead of dismissing the other three, Hawke is asked to stay behind. She doesn't say anything after doing so, just studies Hawke intently. Hawke keeps one hand on her staff, one behind her back, casually appraising the Matriarch as she waits.

"I was planning on testing you again," she finally says. "Asking you what you'd do if I demanded you fuck me, however I wanted you to, in order to continue to associate with my Granddaughter. Or at least asking what you'd do if I did that." Feythal shrugs. "But I don't think that's necessary anymore."

Hawke raises an eyebrow. "No? And why not?"

"There's nothing that test could teach me that I don't already know about you," she replies simply. Then smirks. "Well, aside from possibly- probably- your combat prowess. But that's not something I care about right now. Perhaps you might grace us with a visit to the training hall, but that's up to you."

"Fair point," she allows. "Of course, you could ask me other questions, make other requests."

"Other... requests? For instance if I _told_ you to take off those ribbons? That shirt? If commanded you to kneel before me?" Matriarch Feythal's voice is soft but it fills the room, lingers in Hawke's ears, on her skin.

Hawke's stray hand moves toward her ribbon belt, toying with the ribbons there. "If it meant nothing -- if it was merely pleasure, between us -- I might be amenable to such a request."

"I don't make _requests_ ," the Matriarch warns her. "If you commit, I expect complete obedience from my pet."

"Then we'll need to negotiate some--" _What did Zevran call it?_ "Hard limits ahead of time. There are things I cannot or will not do." Hawke meets her eyes, clearly firmly set on this.

"So you do have some knowledge of this style," Feythal murmurs. "And what kinds of limits would you beg for? What will you offer for my kindness?"

"My offering is my submission, my body, my talents. No more and no less." She smiles. "As for limits -- I do not bite or be bitten. I do not seriously injure anyone or allow serious injury to my person. And I use a safeword."

"Then let me see what you offer," the Matriarch says firmly, snapping her fingers. Tenachka slips out of some shadows- okay, that's something to keep in mind, Hawke could have sworn they were alone- and silently goes to move the table out of the way.

Hawke leans her staff against the nearest wall, turning to face the matriarch as she, simply, almost mercenarily, begins to undress.

"You do yourself little credit, doing it in such a manner," the Matriarch comments.

Hawke glances up at her, slyly. "Oh? Would you prefer to negotiate something less expedient?" she teases.

"You're going to have to be broken to harness, aren't you?" the Matriarch says softly. "Tenachka, my white case. And... go ahead and change into your other work outfit." The heavy stone table out of the way already, the female nods, then slips into the bed room.

"I suppose I will," she says, lifting her chin a bit defiantly.

Matriarch Feythal frowns slightly. "I prefer my toys to either be... biddable or aware they will be punished, harshly, for being willful."

"Then I suppose we'd better come to an agreement," she says, casually. "Are my terms acceptable?"

"No biting, no permanent harm to either of us and your safeword is...?"

"The safeword is sunstone," Hawke agrees with a nod. "Acceptable?"

"And in exchange, you will allow me the use of your body and your pleasure skills, in anyway I desire until dawn tomorrow? Unless you cry off," the Matriarch adds offhandedly, nodding.

"Yes," the Champion says, with another nod.

Tenachka slips back into the room and- oh wow. She's swapped out her armor, and is now wearing a very tight body silk body suit in deep crimson. Her pelvis is uncovered by the suit save for a strip of fabric on the outside of her thighs, but she's also wearing a metal plate that's preventing her bits from being seen or touched. In the center of the plate is faintly glowing glyph that Hawke recognizes as a type of locking rune. She's also gagged rather securely, with a little... cap or something that might be removable on the horse bit in her mouth. In her hands, she carries a two foot by one by one foot chest made of white stone that she sets on the table.

"Agreed. Now... disrobe, little bird. Your Mistress wishes to see her new toy. Leave the ropes."

Only now does Hawke bow her head. "Yes, mistress," she says, in a softer, more biddable tone. Slowly, more sensuously, she removes the ribbons one by one, then slides the chainmail over her head.

"My Granddaughter does good work," Feythal murmurs, eyeing the ropes critically now that they're fully on display. "Some of the ribbons were done poorly... Claudia, no doubt. She'll learn, I suppose. On your knees, little bird. Then crawl to me."

"Yes, mistress." Unafraid, Hawke drops straight to her knees; only when she has landed does she lean forward into a crawling position, and begin making her way toward Feythal. She waggles her butt a little as she goes, trying to be enticing.

Feythal chuckles softly. "A new game for you, it seems." Once Hawke reaches her, she reaches down to yank her head up by the chin. "That's alright, little bird. I'll teach you," she promises in a soft, untender whisper. "That and so much more. Little devil will help, won't you?" she adds, eyes flicking to the side, where Tenachka has knelt silently next to Hawke.

 _Little devil? Oh, because she's a tiefling._ Her heart speeds up, but she keeps a smile on her face. _It's just a tiefling, Hawke. Like Andy. Let it go._

"Does that excite you little bird?" Feythal whispers as Tenachka slowly traces a path down Hawke's back with her sharp nails. She's gentle, the points scratching her flesh but never so hard as to leave a mark that won't fade in seconds. "Learning how to be a good little toy? You can answer me."

"Yes, mistress," she whispers, a shiver running down her spine. "I am eager to learn."

"I'll hold you to that, little bird. Tell me, has my Granddaughter explained to you our somewhat unusual use for the Bastion god's weapons?" Mistress asks, pulling a slim knife from the white stone box.

Hawke's eyes widen a little. "No, mistress."

"Pain without wound," Mistresses explains. "I'm not my middle Daughter, to delight in tearing and gutting, but a cut here, a slice there... bright flares of pain to highlight the pleasure..." she murmurs, lightly running the flat of the blade over her cheek. Tenachka's hand has reached Hawke's rear, the claws- no, not claws, nails, tiefling- palming a cheek and massaging the flesh firmly.

She can hardly help herself -- Hawke swallows back a whimper of combined pain and lust. "Yes, mistress," she whispers. _This is going to be a fun evening._

Mistress slides her hand from Hawke's chin to her hair, then yanks her further upward so she lay a crushing kiss on the merikos elf's lips. "I look forward to hear you whimper and scream," she murmurs once she breaks the kiss. "And more. So much more..."

\---

It's almost noon when Hawke finally wakes up, in the room she was given for her stay at the Enclave. Her body is incredibly sore- not hurting, just... used. Heavily, relentlessly used. She's naked, but clean and warm, tucked in silk and wool blankets. Blinking her eyes clear, she can see Claudia across the room, curled up in a chair reading a heavy scroll intently.

She lets out a small, contented groan. "M'rng."

Claudia doesn't so much as twitch at the faint sound. Staring a bit more, Hawke can see small hourglass next to her. Looks weird though, the middle is missing? Could be messy, if its knocked over...And the base is clunky looking.

 _An... hourglass?_ Hawke frowns at it for a moment, then lets her eyes drift closed again. _She'll figure it out._

Before she can finish passing back out, the sand in the top runs out. A beat later, there's a series of clicking noises, then a soft 'poosh' noise. Sounds almost like Bianca being fired, but muted, weaker. "Ah," Claudia says, then Hawke can hear paper rustling. "Right, got to check on Hawke..."

"mm'Hawke," she mutters, turning over to stuff her face into the pillow.

"Oh, you're awake!" Claudia says brightly, hurrying over. "How are you feeling? I have some chilled berry juice if you want it. Or do you need to use the water closet?"

"Sore," she murmurs. "Sleepy."

"You've been asleep for almost seven hours, you should get some fluids in you. Other than the Matriarch's," Claudia says in a low voice, giggling a little. "I can't believe you got invited for the night," she adds excitedly.

"A'tea, what a night," she moans. "Yes, fluids."

"You are okay, right? I mean... you weren't even... Tenachka carried you to your room, naked, you were so done in," Claudia says, worried again, as she scurries off to get the juice jug.

"'ll be fine, yeah. Just... wow. Mistre-- The Matriarch really goes all-out."

"I guess... you uh... Oh wow, I didn't see that last night," Claudia says, pausing a few feet away with a mug in her hand. She's staring at Hawke's bottom, head slightly tilted.

Hawke twists, trying to get a look. The sleepiness vanishes; she grips the covers beneath her, forcing her hands into stillness. "How bad?"

"What? It's not bad at all, it's looks really nice," Claudia says quickly. "It's pretty."

"What. Did she do." Hawke's tone is as cold as the sudden chill breeze in the air.

"Umm, there's a little hawk tattoo? On you bum? The left side. It's not very detailed, just a solid image, of a hawk- well, bird, but pretty sure it's a hawk because, well, you're Hawke. It's perched on a branch?" She babbles rapidly.

She stops, then, staring for a moment. All at once, the chill bursts, and the warmth of the room returns -- and with it, the sound of Hawke's laughter. "Well! I must have been paying attention more than I thought. That's exactly the tattoo I was thinking of getting last month."

As Hawke shifts, Claudia can see... "Oh, ummm, there's a handprint on your other cheek... but it's smudged, I think it's just the ink?" She's blushing, because from how the print is positioned, it's clear the person in question was prying Hawke's cheeks apart to... "Right, juice, yes?"

"A handprint... tattoo? Or just a mark?" She holds her hand out for the glass of juice.

"Pretty sure it's just ink," Claudia says, offering the mug. "But, umm, I could check? If you don't mind," she adds, not wanting to come off too eager to rub at Hawke's ass.

"Please." _No way I can come home with a tattoo of the Matriarch's hand on my ass!_

"Right! Back in a flash," Claudia says brightly. True to her word, the merikos gnome returns quickly with a rag and a bottle. "Bit of rubbing alcohol should work that right off. Most of it anyway, the rest will just fade in time." _If, you know, it's just an ink stain..._

Hawke sips juice, waits, tries not to panic. Tries not to picture Zevran's face when he sees it.

Trying to keep her movements brisk and clinical- _pretend it's a rubber fixture you're cleaning_ , Clauda tells herself- she dampens the rag and starts to rub. "And... yeah, it's coming off. Looks like when they did the tattoo- which is real," she confirms with a quick swipe, "someone put their hand in the ink afterwards before they started rim- err, touching you."

Visible tension flows out of Hawke's shoulders. "That's alright then."

"Yes it is," Claudia says, biting her lip as she very diligently rubs Hawke's ass.

She whimpers. "Every bit of me aches, Claudia," she moans.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, too hard?" she asks, blushing furiously. "Sorry, I just- I have to scrub if it's going to... do you want to just leave it for now then? Oh, I could make you up a hot bath? With some salts and oils?"

"Yes, a bath," she moans. "And also, you're a lovely girl, but right now I am the least interested in sex I've been all trip. I'm flattered by the flirting but..."

"I wasn't- I mean- sorry. It's just that... you're very... ummm, different. In a good way! Estelle is all.. lush and soft and... wicked. You're lean and firm and bright. I... Sorry," Claudia says meekly. "But, ummm, do you want a bath? To soak out the aches? Wait, you said yes already. Right. Sorry. I'll just... get that ready, okay?" _And reengage my stupid brain again, yeah? Yeah, sounds good, great._

"Thanks, Claudia. You're a lifesaver," breathes Hawke in relief.

Claudia scurries off to get the bathwater ready. "We have witch hazel and sea salt. And some willow bark oil... any of that sound good? Something else? We have tons," Claudia calls out.

"Willow oil," she whimpers, slowly climbing to a standing position.

"Hold on, I'll come out and help you," Claudia says scoldingly. "You're as bad as Estelle after a session with the Matriarch. Or her Aunt Beinthallia," she adds, a little darker in tone. "No witch hazel?" she asks as she comes bustling out of the bathroom.

"If you think it'll help," she says, with a grimace.

"It helps with aches. Bruising mostly, but it should help. Estelle usually does that and the oil, plus some peppermint oil, but she just really likes the smell. And the tingle," Claudia observes. "Okay, let's get you..." She glances down at herself, biting her lip. "Okay, not a sex thing. Promise. But mind if I strip so I don't get my clothes wet helping you in and such?"

Hawke waves a hand. "That's fine. I just wanted you to know where things stand." _I forget sometimes how young she still is, how awkward this all must seem._

"Yeah, I wouldn't... I mean, Estelle didn't ask for a promise back, about not... but I consider myself as having the same restriction," Claudia explains in a low voice as she strips quickly. "Alright, let's get you in the bath."

"I wouldn't accept anyway -- underaged -- but I'm usually more up for flirting than I am now."

Claudia scowls. "I am so sick of being underage," she growls as she pulls Hawke into the bathroom. It's fairly small, like every room, but the bathtub has that strange shimmer effect Estelle's tub had. So... probably much roomier than it appears. "I don't think I can lift you but... one leg in, I'll keep you balanced, then I go in and help you get your other leg in?"

"Yeah, thanks. I'd appre--" _Did I leave that staff in the Matriarch's room? Whoops._ "Sorry, I'd appreciate that." She leans on Claudia, lifting her leg over the side.

It takes a little work, but finally Hawke is sliding down into the steaming water. Which feels fantastic. Claudia hesitates, then asks, "mind some company? I'm worried you might fall asleep and I'd rather soak than stand in the doorway or something."

"Please, by all means."

Claudia slides down as well, sighing happily at the warmth. "So... do you mind talking about it?" she asks after a moment. "I mean... Estelle's talked about what it's like, being with the Matriarch but she grew up with that... mindset. So..."

"It was different," agrees Hawke. "I've never... subbed? Is that the term? I've never subbed for someone that intense. I almost had to safeword a time or two, but, I stuck with it, and it was worth it." She sighs, happily. "So worth it."

"You've never... done that sort of thing before? And you jumped straight to her?" Claudia asks with surprise. "What, ummm, I mean, what were some of the times..."

"I've done a little, with Zevran. Never that involved. And I've done some with Estelle, ordering me to play with Toren, or to let him please me. But not like that." She grins.

"Estelle is pretty playful about her dom games, from what I understand," Claudia agrees. "She, uh, she's started letting me watch her, you know, closely, this last year, but I haven't really see others so I just have gossip for that."

"This was intense. It was... actually rather nice, to let go and just be in the moment."

"Yeah," Claudia says softly, shuddering. "I... sometimes she... gives me instructions. On what to do to myself while I watch," she shares. "It's... wow. It's so much better than when I just touch myself alone."

Hawke nods, humming agreement. "That's the sort of game Zevran and I have played. I may ask him if he knows how to do the harder stuff."

"My favorite is the shinbari. The rope stuff? That just..." Claudia takes a deep breath. "Yeah. It's even better blindfolded and bound to something. Just, uh, make sure you know what you're doing. And never do anything but really basic stuff alone. And even then, make sure you have a good knife that you're sure you can reach," she says forcefully. "You can lose a limb if you cut off the blood flow too long."

The hero nods. "Again, it's easier for me because I always do this stuff with a partner. So my Zevran could have a knife, for example."

"Right. Just... that's really important. When I... well, when I realized I like this- and Estelle likes me liking it- I, uh, well, I tied my legs up and... the rest of it isn't important, but I did it too tight and my legs were on fire for almost a half hour afterwards. Muscle cramps all day and random bruises. Light ones, but it was pretty scary." She rubs her calf absently, as if to soothe the long healed pain.

Hawke frowns. "I'm glad you weren't more hurt."

"Yeah... Estelle was so pissed," Claudia says with a wince. "Not like, angry pissed, but that 'you scared the shit out of me so I'm going to yell at you once you're not in immediate danger' sort of pissed. Got lectured for days, had to read like a dozen books on shibari- which, not exactly a hardship but still. What about you?" she says.

"I have definitely had people be that kind of pissed at me," she chuckles.

"Oh. Uh, good to know it's not just me, but I meant... games. What do you think? You know, out of curiosity and such," she tacks on swiftly.

"Yeah," she says, a dopey smile on her face. "I like games."

Claudia giggles a little. "Any particular ones?"

"There was the one where I had to please her -- blindfolded -- and every time I moved my tongue wrong, she had her tiefling spank me. That was. Exhilarating."

"Hand, paddle or...?" Claudia asks. "Do you have a preference on that? I mean, if you did it again, would you want the same or something else?" _Very smooth, ultra smooth_ , Claudia thinks to herself.

"I liked the paddles we played with, but hand is nice too," she says, thoughtfully.

"Right... mix it up maybe..." She clears her throat. "The paddling while blind didn't bother you? I mean, the pinch seemed to earlier."

"It--" She stops, frowning, puzzled. "Huh. It didn't. That's strange."

"Guess you got eased into it. That can happen. It's one reason why you need to set limits before you get into a game. It's easy to just let things go a little longer, a little further when you're... in the moment," Claudia suggests. "Estelle calls it 'sub-fugue.' Same kind of thinking where you have to get some sleep but it's so easy to tell yourself, in another minute, just one more page, one more try. "

"That... makes a lot of sense," she admits. "I don't do well when I haven't slept."

"Did... do you need to talk about anything? That you did then that you're... not sure you're okay with now?" Claudia asks.

"It's not like that," says Hawke quickly.

"Like what?" Claudia asks, startled at the rapidness of the response. "I mean... I'm not an expert or anything, most of what I know is second hand at best but..."

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I consented. And I had a safeword. There's nothing... wrong about what happened."

"Okay? But that doesn't mean you're not confused or whatever about something you did. It can be bad without it being rape or her fault," Claudia points out slowly. "Or your fault, anyone's fault."

"...Sex? Bad?" Now Hawke has a blank look as she lowers her hand.

"Okay..." Claudia stares a moment. "Haven't you ever had sex and it wasn't... good? I mean... your partner was too rough, or too pushy or... finished too quickly? Didn't care about your pleasure? Was rude or anything like that?"

"I mean, I've had underwhelming sex. A couple times they finished before I did, so I taught them other ways to please me. Never had anyone get too rough with me -- any sign of that and I cut the whole thing short."

"What about... selfish or... has anyone ever done anything you were just like 'ugh, no' but they pushed anyway?" Claudia asks. "Or that you were not thrilled with but they were super into so you just kind of let it."

Her expression darkens. "Once. But that wasn't-- that wasn't sex, it was rape."

"Oh," Claudia says quietly, not sure what to say for a moment.

She sighs, relenting. "Sorry. It's... hard for me to talk about. But that's why I have a rule against biting, why I don't like pain when I'm not expecting it, why I have a scar on my inner thigh."

"Okay," Claudia repeats, hesitantly reaching over to pat Hawke's arm. "That's... thank you for sharing that with me. I... but, umm, I don't mean anything that extreme."

"That's about the only thing like it I've been involved with."

"Really? I mean... huh. You're lucky. Estelle's had stuff she had to halt. Like, uh, well, one of the drow from another Famiglia she was making time with, she liked to be peed on," Claudia explains. "Which is okay, I guess, but Estelle has a pretty good sense of smell so that was just too much. She tapped out of that one, but I know she's done more than she would have agreed to if you asked her when she's... in a neutral state, I guess? Like, she enjoys pain, but she insists on no bleeding or breaking bones unless it's with a Merciful weapon. That's too much. But she's let her Aunt hurt her pretty bad when she was younger because she wanted to impress her."

"Huh," she says. "I've heard of the pee thing, but I'm pretty up front about negotiating."

Claudia shrugs. "I think I'd like to at least try it once... I mean, she was really into it so... anyway. My point is that sometimes you can let yourself- or even talk yourself into- going further than you're actually okay with. It's not even their fault- the other person you're with, I mean. Most of the time. It can just happen. But you seem like you're fine with what happened last night?"

Hawke looks down at the water, lost in thought for some time. Finally, she manages a weak smile and says, "I'll get back to you on that?"

"Are you up for contact?" Claudia asks gently. "Hugs or massage? No sex. The Matriarch healed and cleaned you up, but you passed out hard so she couldn't bring you back up. Out of sub-fugue, I mean. That's why I was hanging around, in case you needed... help."

"...Yeah. A massage would be good."

"Cool. Here, I'll start on your neck and back," she says easily, rising to her feet. Claudia hustles around for a moment, pulling out a rack looking thing with a cushion. "This hangs off the side of the tub, so you can lean on it," she explains, setting it up with ease. "I, uh, I do this a lot for Estelle. It's one of the few ways she'll let me... touch her. She's real strict about it staying... healing and comfort but it's still really nice to touch her," she explains a little shyly.

"Like so?" asks Hawke, moving to lean against the rack.

"Right, good. It's understandable, given how busy she is and how you passed out, but aftercare is super important," Claudia lectures as she grabs some oils. _Hmmm. More witch hazel and lavender oil should be just the thing. The one with a few drops of healing potion in it._ The game isn't really over until everyone involved is ready to go through a normal day's whatever, mentally and physically."

"Is that so?" she asks, curious.

"That's the Robijin way at least," Claudia says with a shrug as she warms the oil in her hands. _Need to remember to finish my oil sprayer before I get too distracted with my flesh-necrotizing compound. Cleaning products are harder to make than one might think... Ummm. What was... right._ "If you break your toys because you don't care for them, then you can't play with them again and no-one will share with you."

"Is... breaking toys common?"

"Not here, no," Claudia says with a slight shiver. "It's considered to be a pretty terrible thing, no matter the rank of the, uh... person." She doesn't like calling them toys, not when this is the topic. "Even below ground, it's considered wasteful and... crude. Unless they're surfacer captives anyway. But yeah, that sort of thing gets you demoted, lashes and possibly a branding, depending on how you did it and why. I think it's only happened... twice? maaaaybe three times? since we got the surface." She pauses. "A break-break, I mean. People have been pushed too far, need time off and healing, that can happen to the best of doms. But really breaking someone takes a lot of work or real ignorance and bad luck."

"And what does that... look like?" Quickly, she adds, "I'm thinking I need to know the signs in case something happens like that in Coalside."

"...empty. When someone breaks, they're empty," Claudia says in a small voice.

"Empty?" she whispers. _I am empty. I am nothing but a toy._ "Oh."

"Sometimes they're... completely empty, just.. husks. Sometimes they still obey, go through the motions, but they aren't a person anymore. Not enough of one anyway. Most of the time, if they react at all, they're completely obedient." Claudia swallows, then gently places her hands on Hawke's back. "It's possible to... bring someone back, with a lot of care. It can take years, decades, and they don't always- they don't often come all the way back. That's... part of the punishment too- the person who... broke someone is expected to take on the broken one's share of work."

Hawke nods. She keeps her tone too casual as she says, "As it happens, I believe I know someone like that. He is mostly restored... mostly."

Claudia makes a soft noise in her throat as she starts massaging Hawke's neck and shoulders. She actually is pretty good at it. Maybe a little firmer than Hawke would prefer, but pretty good. "I... if you want, there are a few books on... helping with that... I could get you some copies if you wanted? And... well, Estelle would have to get it, but there's also a book on how to... do the breaking. I- sometimes it can help, to know how something was broken, in order to fix it? It's restricted, but you won't... I trust you."

Hawke nods. "I would like that, yes."

Claudia hums an agreement softly, not sure what to say at this point. After a few moments of silence, she comments, "you have a very toned body for a mage. " Her eyes widen a bit. "I mean, it's nice. I like it! I mean, that's a good thing I just uh, noticed and..."

Marian laughs. "It's alright. I'm what they call a magus -- a mage that also fights in melee. It's very rare."

"Really? Kind of like a paladin?" Claudia asks curiously. "Except with arcana instead of prayer? Or like Lady Beinthalla actually, though she only has a few spells I think..."

"Something like that. I have a lot more spells than Aveline does, but I don't have any of her mercies. I just hit things with a stick real hard."

"Aveline... oh, your Vangalite friend," Claudia recalls, making a bit of a face as she works her way down Hawke's back.

"Yes, one of my dearest Clan members."

That gets a wince. _Right, she's probably okay if Hawke likes her,_ Claudia reminds herself. "How are you feeling? The bath help any? There's a formal dinner tonight but people would totally understand if you passed on it."

"The bath is helping considerably," she assures Claudia. "I should talk it over with Estelle -- my gut says, I should be there anyway."

"It would be to your credit, probably," Claudia admits. "I'm pretty nervous about going myself. I've been to formal dinners, but not since Estelle's been..." She hesitates, not sure how to describe the recent shift in how her wife is treating her. And more, allowing her to be treated.

Hawke nods. "What were they like?"

"Boring mostly. No-one talked to me except Estelle... when she wasn't busy. Or sometimes Alaehda or the Matriarch and that was just... politeness, I think," Claudia says sadly. "Sometimes, if there was another kid there, I'd get stuck on babysitting duty."

Hawke makes a face. "That sounds horrid."

"That's why I'm kind of looking forward to tonight and also kind of really not. Now that Estelle is... putting me forward? Whatever one calls it, now that things are different, I think people might talk to me. On the other hand, _people might talk to me_ ," she repeats with dread.

She laughs. "I think you are well worth talking to."

"Well, that's because you're really great to talk to," Claudia says, flushing a little. "You always listen. I mean, you really listen and try to understand, not just hear the words and wait to talk. Or try and find the nuggets you want to hear. And you're smart. Clever. Even when I babble, you get me."

Hawke nods. "I learned from my papa -- he's the first adult who really seemed to be on my level, intelligence-wise, and it was... nice to be understood, to have my thoughts validated."

"Do you... do you think that maybe- would you-" Claudia bites her lip. "Want me to work on your limbs or was it just your back mostly? I, uh, can go lower, too, if you're okay with it." It wasn't a bad shift, but it wasn't completely smooth. Still pretty good for her age and clear inexperienced though.

"Yes and yes," she groans. "You're a lifesaver, Claudia. When you come visit me, I should introduce you to my papa."

Claudia stills a moment. "You're really serious about that? That you want... me to come?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"I'm a fifteen year-old geek," Claudia mutters. "With small tits and almost no ass."

"Yeah? I was the same way once. People liked me then, and you'll like you now. You just need to meet people who are good enough to deserve you."

"Thanks. Hard to convince myself that's likely to-" She pauses a moment. "Do you hear that? A chiming noise? I swear I heard it earlier this morning too."

Huh. Hawke _can_ hear it. A soft, melodic chime, more string-like than bell-like somehow. Familiar but not overly so. Hawke frowns. "That almost sounds like--- oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck." She lifts her left hand out of the water, staring at her bare finger. "My ring. Where's my silver ring?"

"Ring? Oh, uh, all your stuff is- hold on, I'll get it," Claudia says quickly, rising out of the water to hurry back to the bedroom. She returns in just a moment carrying a large wooden box- a cheap packing crate type. "All your stuff is in here," she says quickly, holding it out for Hawke to look through.

Hawke stands, leaning over the tub to rummage through the box until she finds the ring -- mostly by the feel of the squeezing it's trying to deliver to her finger as a secondary ringing mechanism. She slides it on, then gives it a distinct twist. "AvelineI'msosorryI'mnotusuallythisirresponsible," she scrambles out, all in one breath.

"Hawke! Finally! I've been trying to call you every hour," Aveline snaps out. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Claudia's eyes widen and she lets out a soundless 'oooooh.' _Good job Claudia, way to not even mention that her stuff has been make alert noises all morning. I barely even noticed it! Every hour? I can only recall hearing it once, maybe twice? Gods, I need to pay more attention... idiot._

"I'm sooo sorry," the hero whimpers. "I'm fine, everything's fine, I'm--" she pauses to hiss in breath as she settles back into the tub, her tattoo brushing against the seat. "Fine," she adds.

"Hawke."

Claudia winces. _Wow, that had... a lot meaning in it._

"A little sore," Hawke admits. "But the good kind?"

"Hawke..." There's a sigh, then, "You're going to have to talk to Zevran and Merrill tonight. They were... very worried, when you didn't call like you promised."

"Should I go?" Claudia whispers.

"I'm-- I can imagine. I'm so sorry, Aveline, I didn't mean to worry anyone." She shakes her head 'no' at Claudia. "I should mention I'm not alone right now."

"Ummm, hello?" Claudia says weakly, giving Hawke a 'what do I do?' look. "This is Claudia? Estelle's wife? Nice to met you, uh, Ma'am?"

"Captain Vallen," Aveline says automatically. "Or, well, given... the non-professional tone of this, I suppose Aveline is sufficient But Hawke, you're fine? I gather you were... just distracted last night?" Her voice is at first polite but approachable, but gets a little stiff when she redirects back to Hawke.

"Very, very distracted," she says with a happy sigh. "...by the Matriarch," she adds, with a hint of a giggle.

Aveline is silent.

Claudia glances at the ring, then at Hawke, then at the ring. "She, uh, she's fine. A little sore, but a hot bath and a massage and she's doing great."

Aveline is still silent.

"Say something, Maoroi." Hawke whimpers.

"Amata," Aveline replies softly. "I... I am aware that I, nor anyway else, have any right to decide who or how you love. But did you consider how this would... impact Zevran? He... he is trying, trying to trust your judgement and... He's trying. But the drow leader? Presumably their most powerful and most cunning? I just... I hope you know what you're doing."

"I wasn't going to tell him," the Champion replies quietly.

"Hawke," Aveline protests, shocked. "How could you- Clan words," she shorthands her objections.

"Don't mean I have to say everything all the time," she protests. "I'm not trying to _hide_ it. I'm just trying to avoid causing a panic while I'm still out on this trip. If he gets it in his head to rescue me..."

"So you'll tell him when you get back and can sit on him?" Aveline asks, sounding _much_ more okay with that thought. "Because it's one thing to not share everything, but it's another to purposely hide something you _know_ is important from one of your loves."

"I can tell him then," she confirms. "Depending how he handles the first half dozen things I need to tell him, anyway. Sometimes people just won't let you tell them what they need to hear."

Aveline sighs. "We're working on him already. Helene and Varric dug up a few things on other drow that have been raised outside of drow culture. Most of the time, they're perfectly good people. A few trouble makers, but not really any more than any other race. And Merrill keeps pouting at him when he starts brooding. I think he's... Come back to us safe and I think he might be able to get past this."

 _Wow, this is the Vangalite? She's... all reasonable and caring. Then again, she's not looking at grey skin so who knows._ Claudia winces then, eyes giving Hawke a guilty look. _That's not fair, Claudia. This Aveline hasn't killed any drow... well, probably not anyway. Hawke wouldn't call her what she did if she was that sort of person, right?_

"Thank you," Marian says, her voice gentle. "I want him to meet Estelle when I return. She... has some news that might be good for him to know."

Aveline starts to say something, but only get as far as 'you' before she bursts into a startled laugh. "Only you, Hawke, only you. I started to say that 'you know, that's the sort of thing people dread hearing from their spouse when they're on a business trip with someone they're attracted to. Good thing you're both female.' Then I remembered you have that ring and..." Hawke can easily picture Aveline's all too common 'this is my life now' headshake, complete with 'thank the divine' half-smile.

"Uh, ring?" Claudia asks curiously.

Hawke grins. "One of my favorite new toys -- it turns me male temporarily. _Fully_ male. Ooh, I wonder if that would shock the Matriarch? If we ever play again. Oh--" She grimaces. "Right, I should prepare you, Aveline, I uh... decided, to get a tattoo after all."

"You can turn male?" Claudia blurts out. _"Why?"_

Simultaneously, Aveline groans. "Please tell me it's not... shocking?"

"Penises," says Hawke, sagely. "New position options, new types of play, potential to impregnate my spouse naturally." _Sorry, Claudia's question should probably come first._

"But that's-" Claudia struggles with her words, finally setting on, "demeaning, isn't it? To you?"

Hawke blinks. "...no?"

Claudia stares at Hawke, then shakes her head. "I... well, I guess you'd still be female where it counts," she rationalizes. "Just like shapeshifting into a bear or rat doesn't actually change who you are. Your mind would still be the same."

"Claudia... You do realize my papa's smarter than I am?" she begins.

"What?" Claudia blinks a few times. "Well... maybe. I mean, it's _possible_. That sort of thing happens sometimes but females are smarter, on average," she says matter-of-factly. "Females are bigger, smarter and more decisive. That's why we lead."

Aveline coughs softly. "So about that tattoo? Just... is it going to cause a problem? I have to go soon."

"Most cultures believe that of males, actually," says Hawke, casually. "Sorry, Aveline. No, I got the same tattoo more or less that I was talking about getting before I left. Just... not on my shoulderblade, after all."

"Hawke." At least this time it's fondly amused. A tinge of frustration, but mostly fondness and amusement.

Claudia snorts. "Clearly, they're not paying attention if they think that. Have them talk to the Matriarch for five minutes and, if they survive, they're realize the truth," she mutters.

"It sounds like you have a lesson to get to," Aveline adds dryly. "I'll let you get to that. And I'll pass the word you're okay. Don't forget to message us tonight before ten or I can't guarantee Zevran won't show up to 'rescue' you."

"I promise. Even if I have to skip tonight's dinner to make it happen."

"The dinner should be over by eight or so. The talking and fucking afterwards can go all night into the morning though," Claudia supplies, getting a slightly choked noise from Aveline.

"Do you think I'll be able to get away for a bit after dinner to call?"

"It shouldn't be a problem. You're a diplomat, technically, it's be understandable that you need to, uh, check in with home," Claudia says with a shrug.

"Good," Aveline adds. "I'd bank on at least twenty minutes. Oh, and you owe Seli a nice dinner and at least two evenings of babysitting- she's been keeping Merrill from moping."

"That woman was sent straight from the gods. And thank _you_ as well, Aveline."

"So were you," Aveline says softly, then clears her throat. "Of course, Hawke. That's what I'm here for." Claudia grins, the romantic in her squealing with delight at the pair.

"I'm not the paladin here," Hawke laughs. "Stay safe?"

"The only god you could swear oaths to like that would be Ciren," Aveline says dryly, though Hawke can hear the jest in them. "I'm in a guards barrack, I'm fine. You look after yourself."

"I'm on a business trip, there's not even a _little_ stabbing involved."

"Not what I heard about you and Toren," Claudia singsongs with a snicker.

Hawke laughs. "You see? You'd fit right in back home."

"Really?" Claudia asks softly, then glances at the ring with a blush.

"Hmmm." Aveline hums, the tone of it soft and thoughtful. "Well, I have to go. Be well, amata. We... we miss you."

"I love you too." She smiles at the ring fondly as they hang up, then sighs, her expression turning more serious. "I suppose I'd better go on to tell you about what men in Nyra are like, much as I'm loathe to."

Claudia blinks a few times. "Umm, what?"

"Because I really should address the casual bigotry that's been baked into your head by your culture, only, I'd much rather gush about sex and my lovers some more." She sighs. "Never let anyone tell you a hero's life isn't hard."

"Hey! I'm not a bigot," Claudia says, stung. She moves away, setting the box down so she can put her hands on her hips. Which would be more imposing if she wasn't naked, fifteen and a rather cute merikos gnome.

"I know," she says, with a shrug. "But you grew up with a bigoted idea of what men are like, just like my brother grew up with a bigoted idea of what mages were like."

Claudia frowns, though her posture does relax a little at least. "..what do you mean? Is this about your Papa? I do believe you, about him being smart. It does happen, sometimes."

"It's not just that. I've not found men, on the whole, across species, to be dumber or more subservient than women. Various cultures hold various beliefs about the differences between the sexes, but I've never found them to be true."

Claudia gives her a very dubious look. "Well... you've never been around drow before, maybe other males are more... average or whatever, but drow are lesser?"

"Very possible," she agrees, lightly. "I don't know drow males as a group at all. I've been pretty much assuming that's the case," _so that I don't feel compelled to correct everyone I meet,_ "but I wanted to set your expectations about men you may meet from outside. Zevran, I'll note, is also not my inferior, but he's merikos, it's possible he takes after his human half."

"Zevran's as smart as you are?" Claudia asks, partially in disbelief, partially in shock at the idea. "Wait, you _are_ above average for intelligence outside, right?"

"He's not as intellectual," she admits. "Nor is his memory as good as mine. But he's wittier, and more clever. I meant that he's literally not my inferior: he doesn't serve me or place himself below me. We're equal partners."

"Oh, alright," the merikos gnome says with relief. _The idea of everyone outside the enclave being as smart as Hawke is... terrifying. And a little... painful._ Claudia's used to being pretty much the most intelligent person she knows, but Hawke might be her equal, or close to it. If she was typical of people elsewhere, then... "Well, I guess it works for you so..." She shrugs. "Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Guilty. But a lot less sore." She smiles at Claudia. "I can only imagine how worried Aveline was."

"...why?" Claudia asks hesitantly. "I mean, I get that you missed a check-in, but you were only like half a day late on it."

"For one thing, I'm never late calling home. For another..." She sighs. "The other day when I called home, Zevran was... concerned for my safety while in the enclave. For me to not call back shortly after will have made him concerned he was right."

"Wh-" Claudia goes silent. "Oh. Right. I... got so used to how... Did you want me to rub your butt?" she asks abruptly, then flushes beet red.

"Yes please." She sighs. "There was a fight about it. My wife was excited I'd get to come here. Aveline knows I wouldn't be coming here if it was likely to end with my death or enslavement, not without help. Zevran was just... honestly afraid for my safety."

Still a little flushed- and very glad that Hawke didn't make a big deal about her very awkward way of offering- Claudia gets the rubbing alcohol and rag to try and clean off the ink smudge. "But he's... oh. Is... he from... underground?" she asks in a hushed tone.

"I'm not sure. I know he was raised on the surface, but I always assumed his parent was from the underground." _Until this trip._

"Then... then why does he..." Claudia isn't sure how to finish that question. As she asks, she gets back in the tub and gestures for Hawke to lean on the pillow again.

"He was raised by his human parent," she says, with a small shrug as she complies. "Hearing the sort of things ignorant humans say about your people."

"But... didn't you? I mean... wouldn't he... why would he believe that sort of thing, when you don't?" Claudia asks, baffled, as she starts scrubbing at the ink.

"I didn't have it used against me every day," she says, quietly. "I believed a lot of horrible things about mages when I was younger. It's easier to let go of prejudice that hasn't been used to hurt me, that I don't have a stake in believing. Plus, I'm rather more open-minded than most, they say."

"But... if he thinks drow are the sort of people that would kill someone like you or enslave _anyone_ , then wouldn't mean he's... half that evil? Why would someone believe that?"

Hawke murmurs, soberly, "I'm glad you don't know how that feels."

"Umm, okay?" Claudia says hesitantly. "So... new topic?" she says in an overly perky tone, trying to move past the suddenly heavy conversation.

"What kind of books do you like to read?" asks Hawke, sounding... not perky, but cheerier.

"Engineering is great. And alchemical. Uhhh. Math is good too, but I can only do that for a few hours before it starts to blur. Is this too hard?" she asks as she works.

"No, it's fine. What mathmaticians do you read?"

"Oh, mostly Vokian. She was an engineer, not a scholar and it shows: nearly everything she did was practical math, not theoretical stuff," Claudia says, pleased that they're on a new topic, and one she can talk about easily. In fact, that topic manages to last them a good hour, as they find themselves discussing the merits and drawbacks of a using weight vs volume measurements in regards to alchemical crafting.

Eventually the mark is as faded as it's going to get without taking off still living layers of skin and both ladies are serious pruned. Still feeling lazy, Hawke heads back to bed and, after a little shyness, Claudia joins her for a relaxing afternoon of reading in bed.

"Huh. This is probably the least exciting thing someone has caught their wife doing in bed naked with another woman," Estelle comments blandly from the doorway.

"I've had enough excitement for one morning," says Hawke, with a contented sigh. "How are you doing, Estelle?"

"A little smug and preening, with a side of very busy and currently wishing I could have been cuddled in with you two," Estelle says with a grin. "I know it's not why you did it and I wouldn't have asked you to, but being invited to be with Grandmother your first day here? And staying the whole night? Oh, and Grandmother was _smiling_ most of the morning," she adds, grin turning into a smirk. "Your reputation- and thus mine- is doing very well indeed."

"Oh, good," she says, happily. "Because I had a _wonderful_ time."

Slipping off her dress, Estelle crawls up the bed to cuddle in between the two ladies. "Glad to hear it," she says with a laugh. "So up for dinner tonight? You seem to be moving well, so I gather my love worked her magic?"

\---

It's only for an hour, but the three rather enjoy themselves before they have to get ready for dinner. Which is... honestly rather a great deal like any formal dinner Hawke has been to in Nyra. Less clothing, sure. And unless the dinner is at Voice, Hawke generally doesn't see people getting eaten out during the dessert course. But otherwise- polite talk, subtle probing of intent and ideology, and gossip. Lots of gossip. Eventually, however, the dinner ends and Hawke slips away to make her call home.

She slips away a few minutes early, intending to give herself time to collect herself; of course, the harder she tries to collect herself and not daydream, the worse it gets, until at last she succumbs, and it is with slick fingers she twists the ring to answer when Aveline calls. "Good evening," she says, breathlessly, but contented.

"...I thought you were at a dinner?" Aveline asks sternly.

"I was. How are you?"

"Eating a much less satisfying dinner than you were, evidently," Aveline replies, her tone shifting to dry humor. "Or should that be 'satisfied' dinner?" In the background, Hawke can hear someone start choking.

Hawke laughs. "Sorry, it's just, their culture is... very sexual. I'm having a great time, though."

"You would," Aveline admits. "It... sounds like you fit right in," she adds a little cautiously. A snort and then some rustling noises. And possibly a minor scuffle? "How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing well. What's going on on your end? Are you busy?"

"No, I'm at your place. I'm in the kitchen with Varric and Wynne. Zevran is being... distracted by Merrill, Seli and the twins. Andy is working," she adds. Aveline pauses a moment, then says softly, "Zevran is... surprisingly good with the little ones. And they're even better with him, I think."

"Varric started doing dishes the moment he heard your voice," Wynne explains, sounding very amused. "He keeps eying the living room. And now he's glaring at me."

"Hi Papa," she laughs, sounding more normal now that she's had a few moments to catch her breath. "Yeah, I think Zevran will be a great dad someday."

"Hey Hawke," Varric says gruffly. "So you got your- explanation ready? Merrill a little miffed this time as well, but I suspect she'll cave once you say sorry. Zevran, uh, he may have tried to scry on you again. It was blocked though, which, go figure, the powerful and reclusive drow enclave is warded. Just wound him up even more though."

"He tried to steal the ring from me," Aveline reports. "I, uh, had to hide it," she says stiffly.

She lets out a whine. "Dammit. Okay. Yeah, I can manage this."

"Alright, I'm heading into the living room. The twins will be there, which should hopefully tone down Zevran's reaction, but that also means you'll have to watch your words," Aveline warns Hawke as she rises to her feet.

"Thanks, I love you," she says gratefully.

"Always, amata," Aveline murmurs. She knows it's silly, but she has trouble expressing that feeling to Hawke in front of anyone except with that word.

She enters the room, though only Seli notices at first. Zevran is face down on the ground, with Gilly sitting on his shoulders, fingers twisted in his hair. She's crowing loudly, proclaiming Zevran her spoil of war, which is getting a wince from Merrill as she holds Zevran's feet loosely to help. Thankfully, Zevran doesn't seem bothered with the bit of childish ignorance, knowing she doesn't mean it like that. Tomas is solemnly trying to wind a ribbon around Gilly's arm, pretending to patch up her battle wound.

"So who wants to say hello to Auntie Hawke?" the paladin asks casually, causing both twins to spring up and mob her with cries of greeting- and demands for spoils from Gilly. When is her pirate phase supposed to run its course again? It's good they reacted so quickly however, given that Zevran is also bolting upright to rush Aveline.

"Oh no, I'm being held hostage by the fiercest pirate queen in all of Aldis!" laughs Hawke. "Save me, Tomas!"

"Sorry, Aunnie, but Gilly's scary," Tomas says gravely. "She bites." Gilly puffs up, starting to fire back before Zevran cuts in.

"Hawke! Are- what happened? Are you okay? We can be there in five hours, I have a teleport scroll and Seeker Helene scryed out a place near-"

"I'm fine!" she calls, laughing a little. "Honest, I'm fine. I got a little caught up with things last night and took my ring off for a few hours. I caught up with Aveline this morning, I'm really sorry for worrying you."

"We worried, when you didn't call like you promised," Merrill says softly, tone gently reproachful. She's come a long way from the girl that nearly broke when she thought Hawke was leaving her, but she's still a bit touchy about abandonment.

Zevran scowls. "You made Mer- ooww!" he cuts off as his lover kicks him in the ankle. She frowns at him, not happy about being used to hurt Hawke.

Hawke winces, hissing in with breath a little. "Sorry, Merrill. And sorry, Zevran. It was an honest mistake -- I've been really good this whole time, haven't I?"

"It's fine, Hawke. It's a bit... needy to make you call every night," Merrill says firmly. "We appreciate it."

Zevran scowls, looking away. "...what happened?" he finally demands.

"Is Unca Zeven or Auntie Hawke in trouble?" Gilly wonders, not able to follow things.

"No, Captain, nobody's in trouble," she says kindly. "Auntie Hawke just got caught up in a late, boring dinner with some diplomats and forgot to call. That's all."

Gilly studies the ring for a moment. "That's code for fucking," she announces loudly, then grabs her brother by the hand. "Bored. Let's go bury stuff."

"...is that normal?" Aveline asks, staring at the small child as she heads for the backyard, followed by Silence.

Seli sighs a little. "For a Ciren priestess's child? Yes, though the language isn't... what I'd prefer." She give Zevran a flat stare, though she's also thinking of a certain saucy wench.

"Are they gone?" asks Hawke, with a chuckle. "I didn't want to get explicit in front of them, Ciren's or not."

"Yes, Silence is watching them outback," Seli informs Hawke.

Entering the room, Wynne sets down a tray- tea, of course- and offers, "I can go and watch them as well. Make sure they don't bury your silverware again."

"Thank you," Seli and Merrill both say together, then glance at each other warmly.

Zevran meanwhile is scowling darkly. "So there's something explicit to share? It must have been great, to have made you forget about us."

"Zevran," she snaps. "That's not fair and you know it."

"Do I? You promised to call every night and the first night there, you break your word to get laid," he snaps right back.

"Fine," she says, with a sigh. "If you don't trust me, can't trust me, can't find it in your heart to forgive me, then I'll go beg forgiveness from the Matriarch and have Isabela bring me back so we can break up in person."

"That's not-" Zevran scowls. "There's a lot of ground to cover before it comes to that Hawke. But perhaps you should come back so we can talk this out in person," he adds quickly.

"Zevran, do I need to sit on you again?" Merrill demands. "Or ask Aveline to?"

"What?" the paladin sputters, blushing.

"You're twice my size. And wearing half your armor," Merrill explains.

"I told you I forgot, it was an honest mistake. You're all but calling me a liar. I told you I'm fine. You're still convinced I'm in danger. You don't trust me. Merrill trusts me more than you're doing right now." She sighs. "I know that's not what you meant, but dammit, Zevran, I can't spend the rest of this trip worried about you."

"I... it's not about trust, it's about... anyone can be tricked. You're not perfect, they could be lying to you," Zevran insists. "You keep saying how wonderful they are, how they're just misunderstood. But they're _not_. Drow _are_ evil. Maybe some of them are... okay, but not all of them and you're too damn kind and forgiving to be wary of them." He doesn't sound angry anymore, just... worried. Tired and worried.

"Not these drow," she says, quietly. "Yes, I'm kind. Yes, I'm forgiving. But I don't forgive slavers, Zevran. I kill them." Her voice goes hard on this last bit.

"I- I don't think they have people in chains," Zevran says tiredly. "You'd never stand for that, or anything like it. But that doesn't mean they're not hiding their.... sins from you. Lesser sins, or just... quieter ones."

"Sins like bigotry, you mean?" she says, wryly, thinking of Claudia -- and of Zevran. "Meet Estelle, when she comes back. Really meet her, with an open mind. Listen to what she has to say. You'll see. They're not harmless, per se; their culture is different, but they're doing their best."

"I've met more than enough drow in my life already, thank you," Zevran says acidly.

"You've met drow before?" Aveline asks, surprised.

After a moment, Merrill says softly, "Zevran? Are you okay?"

"Zevran," Hawke sighs, slipping into Elven -- surprisingly, for the first time this trip. "My wicked one, my warrior. Please."

"What?" he says in the same tongue, tone sullen.

"My Sweet Moon," Merrill croons, rubbing her cheek against the back of his head as she hugs him. "Talk to us, my love?"

"..." Zevran's mouth works for a moment, before, "my mother."

"Oh." Merrill smiles, trying to sound optimistic. "Right, I suppose you did as a baby. Or did she come back when-"

"As a slave. As Denarius's guest."

"I... If you like, we can wait until I get back to discuss it?" asks Hawke, gently, still in Elven. _When I can hug you close._

"I would prefer to never think of it again," Zevran says bitterly. "Or her. Or drow at all."

Merrill makes a soft, sad noise. "She's... she's not Estelle. Has nothing to do with her. No more than Raynare is the same as me. Or that I'm like her."

"You _need_ to discuss it," Hawke says, in her serious, no-nonsense tone. "With me, with a Bright trained in counselling, with Merrill... but with _someone_."

Zevran adopts a mulish expression and doesn't say anything.

"So... Okay. You've made it clear you like Estelle. How about everyone else? Anyone there pinging as a possible issue?" Aveline says carefully, trying to move things along and perhaps make Zevran feel a little better about Hawke's judgement.

"Estelle's wife, Claudia, is amazing. She's a gnome merikos, and she's so smart, I want her to come visit and meet you all. The rest of Estelle's family is... not as great. Her aunt clearly hates me, which is frustrating because I'm trying so hard to be neutral. My opinions on men, for example, they're just not in a place to hear right now, except maybe Claudia. They've got this caste system in place still where men are subservient to women. And I'm not too keen on their long-term job placement strategy, but it seems to work out for them. Oh! I tried ants -- did you know they eat insects?"

"Smart or smart like us?" Varric asks curiously from the doorway to the living room, focusing in on the thing he cares about.

"Ants?" Seli mutters, making a face. "Please don't tell Gilly about that, I just convinced her not to eat random bits of food she finds on the ground, I don't want her moving on to raw bugs."

"Long-term job placement?" Zevran asks carefully, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Smart like us, yes ants, and yes, long-term job placement. Before you take a position, they run you through a battery of tests to ensure you're well-suited for it, but then they expect you to keep it a century or two before you change jobs. It's... way more rigid than I'd like, but they don't have slavery, and the tests for becoming a pleasure worker are particularly extensive. Oh! And did you know they're immune to sex diseases? So they don't have to bother about testing."

"Oh that's handy," Merrill says brightly.

"...what?" Zevran asks, caught off guard. _I've never had so much as a rash, even before my magic ring but... surely that was just luck or Ciren, not because..._

"Huh. Sounds a bit like the Adrift," Varric comments, getting a huff from Aveline.

"Had a meeting with their Speaker yesterday about 'proper restraint in tavern brawls,'" she explains sourly at the looks.

"It does, doesn't it?" replies Hawke, her tone neutral. "Very tidy and orderly. But long-lived, so a little different in that regard."

"Eh, to be fair, I've been doing the same job for... Astea, a hundred and twenty, twenty-five years? Doesn't feel like that long..." Varric muses, not really noticing the looks from everyone else.

"Right... they have... pleasure workers? Like the... ones at Voice?" Aveline prompts.

"They do. I'm going to arrange time to talk with a few of them on this trip, ensure they're really being treated well."

"Slaves won't speak out against their masters," Zevran points out. "The cost is too high. How will you be able to tell if their words are truth or forced?"

"I don't plan to listen to their words. I plan to watch their eyes."

Zevran starts to say something, then laughs softly. "I suppose... I'm sorry. You are well aware of how to help in this manner," he admits.

"Only if they let me," Hawke says, with a wistful sigh. "I don't expect problems. They're... stern people, and sometimes bigoted ones, but no more so than Golden Shores used to be."

"That... is perhaps not the most reassuring description," Aveline says.

"Given that your mother was from there..." Varric agrees. "And Carver."

"Carver... Carver means well, he's just... searching for his purpose, his reason." Aveline smiles faintly. "His Clan."

"Whatever you say. But the point is, they're not inherently worse than humans."

Aveline rolls her eyes but lets it go.

"Humans can be evil as well... but I will accept your point as intended," Zevran says, a flash of a human man, only a few years older than himself with hateful, greedy eyes, quickly forced away. Eyes the same shape as his own.

"Can you bring back some ants?" Merrill asks suddenly.

"I will find out," she promises. "If I can, I want the recipe. I think the honeyed preparation would work well for nuts too."

"Oooooh, they're made with honey?" she asks eagerly, causing Seli to groan.

"Absolutely not. _No_ ," the mother says firmly. "Nuts, fine, but you will _not_ teach my children that bugs are sweet and tasty."

"I'm pretty sure you're doomed in that regard, Seli," laughs Hawke.

"Fine, but you're buying me a wand to neutralize poison," Seli snaps, folding her arms in a huff, getting chuckles from the rest. "You're still wearing your special ring though, right? Disease isn't the only thing you can catch after all." And Joyous Seline is here.

"Yes, yes, of course, I--" _All of my jewelry was in that box._ "will begin doing so immediately." She punctuates it with a groan. "Dammit, what was I thinking?"

"Hawke!" everyone but Merrill says in various tones. And shes's frowning at, well, Aveline's hand.

"Ask if they have a cleric that can check you out. Today and in a week," Seli orders.

"Yes, Brightness," she replies, in that 'I've been scolded' tone. "I'm sorry, it was just... Not the best sex of my life, but well up there. I got carried away subbing and lost track of what I was doing and I guess I forgot to leave that one when she asked me to take off all my rings." She blushes brightly, not that anyone can see.

"Substituting for what?" Aveline says, frowning. "Or who, I guess makes more sense?" She pauses. "...why is everyone staring at me?"

Zevran, who had been able to snap at Hawke, is now very torn. He wants to yell at Hawke, but he also wants to tease Aveline.

"How did you manage to guard Coalside this long and never hear that?" Varric demands.

"I'm a sub," Merrill informs Aveline happily.

"It's a sex thing, you can explain later," squeaks Hawke.

"Dibs," Zevran says instantly.

"Not chance in all the hells, pervert," Aveline snaps, flushing.

"I'll explain later," Seli says firmly. "No sex until you're checked out. And you're been safe otherwise?"

"Yes, very. I've actually had less sex than I'm used to on this trip, and most of it's been with Isabela."

"Not exactly safe there," Aveline mutters, though not loud enough to be heard by most in the room. She... did not react well to finding out that Hawke's helpful waitress friend was actually a pirate captain as perverted as Zevran.

"Alright. Go find a healer but enjoy yourself. It can happen in a single encounter, but the odds are very much in your favor," Seli says. "So get checked, but don't obsess." She laughs softly. "Sorry, you know all this, habit."

"Yes ma'am," Hawke says, and her tone is... oddly dreamy.

Seli gives the ring a long look, then clears her throat. "Varric, could you go check on the twins?" she asks pointedly. Varric gives her a look, but then his eyes widen as her meaning lands. "Right, got it, on it."

Once he's gone- to smirks and smiles- Seli returns her attention back to Hawke. "You've never done much subbing before, have you?" she asks bluntly.

"No," she chuckles. "Is it obvious? I've never really played like this -- I remembered what Zevran told me about negotiating up front, and I laid out my hard limits before I got into the scene, and I even remembered to negotiate for a safeword. But it was.... it was intense. We went all night, I was... pretty sore this morning."

"You're still half-way in in sub-zone," Seli says gently. "It can be hard, especially the first few times, to partition bedroom games from everyday life. Some people don't bother, mind you, living that way all the time." Her eyes flit to Merrill for a moment, whom she's had to gently coax back into a full partnership for their special project after they started... seeing each other. "Just be a bit vigilant about how you react with the dom, make sure you're acting the way you want to, however that is."

Zevran is taking long, slow breathes, trying not to panic or flip out. His eyes fly back open at the feel of a strong, calloused hand on his upper arm. Aveline meets his eyes with her own supportive gaze.

"Oh. Yeah. That's mostly because I've let my guard down because it's you all I'm talking to. All through dinner I had to be proper and stern and unyielding -- I don't want people thinking I'm a pushover."

"Like a kitten," Merrill says with a giggle. "A puffed up kitten with a scowl."

Aveline smiles faintly, still resting her hand on Zevran. "Unless she goes cold, Hawke's not the most... imposing, no."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said kitten laughs. "Anyway, I can't stay much longer. They're probably going to split into groups for sex after dinner, and I'll get a lot further as an ambassador if I don't miss out."

"Your dedication and sacrifices for Nyra's well-being are duly noted," Aveline says dryly. _Are we sure Hawke isn't part drow? She is clearly among her own over there..._

Seli frowns, though more thoughtfully than anything else. "Do you happen to know if there's a Cirenite church in the Enclave?" the priestess asks idly.

"No, but I intend to find out, given the circumstances. I'll let Aveline know what I find out tomorrow? I know there's worship of Ciren, so I figure there's got to be a church, right?"

"If there's not- or if it's not, let me know," Seli says innocently.

Aveline snorts. "Somehow I doubt Vangal would get much traction. Too much bad blood, I suspect, on both sides," she admits with a sight. _I can understand the urge to strike first, before evil can hurt anyone, but too many of my kin are too eager to 'defend' against drow and other groups without cause._

"No, regrettably. I asked about whether worshipping Astea would be a bad thing to mention, and I'm mostly just keeping quiet about religion. They're primarily Naugrix, some Junon, some Zanon, and a good deal Ciren."

"Hmmm," Siri says thoughtfully, making a note of that. _Not really my duty, but it sounds like they're a very good match and having stronger ties with people Nyra accept... well, faith can be a bridge sometimes._

"Zanon?" Aveline notes, then shrugs a little. "Could be worse, I suppose. Naugrix and Junon though... interesting choices there, not often paired with Ciren." _And it doesn't fit the... land of political-minded Zevrans and Isabelas you've been describing either._

"Yeah. They're real big on order, I suppose." She sighs. "That's probably the worst part. I have to learn the social rules and play along. I miss you all."

Merrill makes a sad noise, a cross between a whine and a kitten's mewl. Zevran is more intelligible with his, "Ciren yes."

"Suppose I can't argue with a focus on order," Aveline notes, though her hand fists for a moment to cause the ring to dig in a little. "But you said you had to go?"

"Right! Yes. Sorry. I'll call again tomorrow, promise."

There's a chorus of 'love yous' from everyone then Aveline ends the spell.

"Feel better, my worried moon?" Merrill asks gently, kissing Zevran's check.

"...better, yes. I won't be well until she's back in my arms, safe and home, but... better," he says softly.


	6. Two Kinds of Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new family is discovered.

The rest of the night and the following two days go rather well. Hawke puts her zi' on for most of it, touring the Enclave and speaking with everyone that will stand still long enough for her to greet them. Estelle is able to show her around for most of it, but Claudia is with her nearly every moment- she has far less duties after all, and seems to really enjoy Hawke's company. When Hawke, somewhat fumblingly, asks about seeing a healer, Estelle is confused at first, but finally remembers that Hawke isn't drow and introduces her to her Aunt Grace, a priest of Valshathe. Also the only worshipper of Valshathe at the Enclave. Nice woman, if a bit quiet and almost timid, but sweet and skilled in her field. Thankfully, Hawke comes up clean, so that's a worry off. her shoulders.

Her general impression of the Enclave, at least this quarter of it, is that the people are safe, comfortable and content. There are a few gripes, a few grumbles, but for the most part people are happy as they are. In truth, the biggest complaints aren't about increased freedoms, mistreatment or sexism, but about how the Matriarchs refuse to allow expansion out of the caves despite the abundance of room on the surface. But even most of them allows that the it's far less safe on the surface than the caves. In fact, Hawke hears a few times about how the scattered descendants of the raider army that lead to the drow allying with the gnomes here are still a problem. That's what happened to Lady Beinthalla, and where she is most of the time- chasing down raiders and patrolling the lands above. It doesn't help that none of the surrounding villages or towns will lift a finger to help the Enclave, or even pass on sightings.

The morning of their fifth day at the Enclave, Isabella has a bit of surprise when she awakens- there's a slim envelope on her pillow next to her head. Of the bed she's been sleeping in. In her locked room. _On her fucking airship._

It also happens to have Hawke's name scrawled on the outside in black ink.

Isabela grabs a pair of knives, giving the envelope a horrified look. She uses one knife to hold down the letter, at arm's length, while the other opens it. _Hawke, I hope this is from you and not for you. I'd really rather not be kidnapped and enslaved today._

==========================  
Thank you for looking after what I couldn't. It's far too late for me to care now, or expect the same, so I'm glad you can. Please don't try to contact or locate me, it won't end well. Your new friend and her wife seem alright, but watch their mother. She cares far less than she pretends to in order to placate her own mother. I refuse to regret my life, or my choices, but I do wish sometimes they'd had better outcomes, at least for him. Cold comfort, I suppose, if any comfort at all. I did what I had to in order to survive, to make my own place, and to keep it, but it would have been nice if I could have helped faster. Sooner. He's strong though, stronger with you and the elf- and the pirate woman I'm sure is reading this first. May your life be filled with less darkness than it has been and may you not be alone.

PS- I took care of the loose end in Brookfield village.  
===========================

The entire thing is written in neat, even lettering, with no flourishes or personal touches. Almost eerily uniform in fact.

 _Brookfield?_ she thinks, dumbly, reading the letter pinched between two knives. _This is about... a he? It must be Zevran, if it's about Hawke and Merrill and I. Is that what this person couldn't look after? Zevran?_ A cold chill runs down her spine as she puts the letter down. _This reminds me rather too much of Denarius, all told. I'll have to send word. I'm sure Travers would love to visit the enclave with a message from me._

Travers is sent, then sent back- Isabela has permission to enter thanks to Estelle, but none of her crew has been extended the same. Word does finally get to Hawke- almost two hours later- as she's walking around with Claudia and Estelle with the lead trainer for the comfort workers. Ten minutes after that, the three are heading up the gangplank of the Siren's Echo.

Isabela meets her there, having spotted her coming. "Hawke, we have a situation."

"I gathered," the hero replies brusquely. "Are we leaving?"

Isabela shrugs. "I don't know what to make of this. Maybe you can understand it. It's in my quarters."

"Leaving? What? What's wrong?" Claudia asks urgently, though she doesn't hesitate to follow after them both quickly.

The letter, thankfully, is still there. And nothing else is either missing or present that shouldn't be. As far as Isabela can tell anyway.

Hawke reaches for the letter -- now moved to the captain's desk -- and reads it briefly. "Oh," she says quietly. "This isn't--"

"It rather reminds me of a certain lich," the sea wench says dryly, "given it appeared suddenly without warning."

"This is... rather the opposite." She hands the letter to Estelle.

Estelle glances, though she doesn't take the letter. Outright assassinations might be forbidden these days, but she's still trained to avoid them. And the occlusion dosing of more mild, merely embarrassing or discomforting toxins. "Wait, you think... my sister?" she asks quietly, rereading it for a second time.

"It must be. It clearly refers to my Zevran."

"Yeah, I gathered," cofirms Isabela, ignoring the 'my' part of the statement. _Be jealous later, Isabela._ "Is he in danger from this sister or?"

"I... don't think so?" Estelle says. "I've never met her really. Some very vague memories when I was just a tot. She... brought me a hair brush, I think? And something sweet, candy maybe. But then she and mother went to the next room and shouted for what felt like hours. I don't recall her ever even really being mentioned after that." Claudia slips an arm around Estelle's waist, which the drow readily accepts.

Hawke nods. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I know the breakup of a family can be painful."

"This... I suppose thise pretty well confirms it though: your lover Zevran is my nephew," Estelle says with a shake of her head. "Small world?"

"Wait what? The bitch who left him to be raised by humans? She's your sister?" snarls Isabela. Hawke's face darkens significantly.

Estelle narrows her eyes Isabela. "Yes, my elder merikos sister. And why does her letting him be raised by his father make her a bitch? Thanks to my mother," and she's even more pissed with her after this then before, "she'd have been cut off from Enclave support for years by that point. A drow raising a merikos babe? Alone? What kind of life would that have been?"

"Then don't get yourself pregnant and have the babe," says Isabela. "There're ways."

"In her defense, she probably didn't _know_ his family would sell him," growls Hawke.

"What?" Claudia blurts out. Estelle, however, has gone utterly still though the lights in the cabin dim to almost nothing.

 _Fuck, I didn't mean to say that._ Hawke sighs. _Now it's dark **and** cold._ "Estelle. Deep breaths. Get hold of your magic." She follows her own advice then, taking a deep breath.

"I do have a hold of it," Estelle croons softly. "What I want to have a hold of is the hearts of those that harmed my blood."

"Estelle," she says sharply. "It's done. It's over. Zevran ripped Denarius's heart out himself, bare-handed. Twice. It's done."

There's a pause, then a deep breath. The shadows dance, shiver and then draw back. "....my apologies. I..." She takes another deep breath, her eyes darting to the woman that... "you didn't pull away from me. That was foolish."

Claudia glares up at her wife. "I know you have a temper. A... an edge, a sharp one. I love you for it, knowing it only comes out for family."

Hawke smiles fondly at them. "Do you know, the saddest thing? I found him sitting in a cold bath one rough night, trying to get it cold enough to smell like me when I'm angry. Sometimes the things you think are the worst parts of you are the parts people love the most."

Estelle looks a bit started- even more so when Claudia nods. "It might be different if I didn't trust Estelle completely, but her rage isn't scary. It's comforting."

The drow flushes slightly and averts her gaze, ending up on the letter. "...what did she mean in the postscript? About the loose end?"

"I assume she's killed his family." Hawke doesn't sound broken up about that. Maybe a little disappointed.

"Good," says Isabela bluntly.

"Agreed," Estelle says sweetly. She sobers then. "I... I gather this is... private, for him. But can I... how bad was it? Was he..." She falters, unsure of what she wants to ask. Wants to be told 'no' about.

"Bad," she says, her tone dark again.

 _There was >b>one bright spot, I trust,_ thinks Isabela, but she doesn't say it. Instead, she does what she does best: "Well! I'm glad this isn't something deadly."

"We... we have, historically, I mean, we have..." Estelle pauses, glancing at Claudia, who looks back uncertainly. "Claudia mentioned you requested books about helping people recover from..."

"I still want those," she says, quieter. Louder, she says, "But he's doing well. Much better than when I first met him. He's a business owner, people respect him, he's generally happy. Well, he's not happy with my being away for so long, but that's just temporary."

"Thank you. Thank you so much for... loving him. Taking care of him, and- and- I gather he's... unfond of drow, and probably even less of those related to... well. She's my sister and I can't cast that aside easily, not without knowing why she made the choices she did, but he's also my nephew. If there's anything I can do to... help, please ask," Estelle says quietly.

"I want him to meet you. I want him to know he has family that isn't..." She shrugs. _I'm sorry, my Warrior. I meant to let you tell her yourself, in your own time. My stupid temper ruined that._

"I want to met him as well," Estelle says firmly. "I'll do anything I can to earn his trust. Should... should I not- I mean, I wouldn't just bring this up but should I... act surprised or..."

"That seems kind of dishonest," Claudia points out uncertainly.

"No, I'll tell him it came up so he's not surprised. I meant to keep that private, but..." She sighs. "I've been trying. I've been telling him about you, how much I.. have come to care for the both of you. How lovely this trip has been."

Estelle bites at her lip. "I..." She frowns, thinking. _What can I offer, to share with him to balance things? I have nothing so dark or painful in my life, nothing that can compare to... that._ "I don't know what to say to make this even a little even. I can try to find all I can about my sister, so he can know more about her but I don't even know if he'd care. I have no secret I can share that's even a sliver of that... significance."

Hawke nods. "I'm not sure which would be more fair -- telling you something about myself, so you have a secret from me to use as leverage over me as well, or telling him something I haven't, so that he's had a secret and you've had one." She frowns. "Probably the former?" she asks, glancing to Claudia as if to ask her take on it.

"Um, I don't think either of those really work..." Claudia says doubtfully. "The imbalance is between Zevran and Estelle. Well, there's also an offence on your part, for the breach of trust but that between you and him, not, Estelle."

"I... I have an idea," Estelle says, looking uncomfortable and slightly flushed. "But, ummm, I would prefer if only... oh hellsfire, to be fair, you'd all have to know about it too, wouldn't you?"

"Isabela already knew everything I said, so--"

"Bite your tongue, woman, I was innocent as a newborn lamb. Go on?"

Estelle gives Isabela a flat look. "I'm not entirely ignorant of surface animals. Sheep are evil creatures, valuable only for their wool and milk," she says flatly. "May I ask to be invited to your call home tonight? If Zevran is willing to speak with me alone? Well, alone on his end?"

"I'll ask," sighs Hawke. "I'm not entirely sure he'll be there, but I have no problem with you being with me when I call tonight either way, I'll just let people know you're around."

"Sheep? What's wrong with sheep?" asks Isabela, blandly.

"They eat hair," Estelle hisses before turning back to Hawke. Claudia mouths 'goats' to Isabela, hiding a smile. "Thank you Hawke. If he can't speak with me tonight, then perhaps tomorrow?"

Hawke nods. "Definitely."

"Ah, yes, of course. The famed hair-eating sheep, farmed for their valuable milk," laughs Isabela, not willing to drop the topic just yet.

Claudia starts coughing loudly. "Are you alright, my love?" Estelle asks, turning to her wife with concern.

"Y-yes, just- b-breathed in wrong," she gasps out, trying desperately to not giggle.

Estelle frowns, eying her wife with slowly dawning suspicion. "Right.... anyway, Captain Isabela- do you wish for a contingent of guards to assist your crew for the rest of your stay to discourage... repeat visits?"

"I would, but unfortunately, it'd give my men the wrong idea about my estimation of their competency. I'll double the watch instead."

"Understandable," Estelle says with a nod, entirely unoffended. "Would... you care to join us? We were touring the comfort worker's training area, then heading to lunch but I think we might just go to lunch at this point."

"Sure. Lunch sounds great."

\---

That night, Aveline answers the ring as is becoming normal and greetings are exchanged. Estelle and Claudia wait across the room, politely out of earshot, for Hawke to chat with her loves. After five minutes or so, Hawke comes over to sit next the couple as they try to read. For whatever reason, Estelle had insisted that Claudia had to be here for this. The drow has been antsy about whatever he idea is all day and she jumps when Hawke takes her seat.

"Just me," she says quietly. "Zevran's finding a quiet place, then you'll want to identify yourself. I told him a friend wanted to speak with him, but I haven't yet said what about."

"Sorry, I'm just... this is... uncomfortable. I mean, it has to be, for it to balance, but it's still..." Estelle musters a wan smile. "Any advice on how to start? So he doesn't just... break the connection right off?"

"He won't," she says, simply. "I'll tell him what happened, don't worry about that part of it."

"Any advice anyway?" the drow asks, laughing weakly.

Before Hawke can answer, Zevran asks, "well, you wished me all for yourself, mon faucon bien-aimé? What would you... ask... of me?" Claudia grins, amused at how familiar he is, but Estelle looks even more stressed.

"Unfortunately, nothing half so nice," laughs Hawke. "I have with me Estelle and Claudia, say hi."

"Hello again, Zevran, I hope you're well?" Claudia says brightly after neither of the other two say anything for a few seconds.

"H-hello," Estelle blurts out.

"Hawke...." Zevran finally says after another beat of silence. Has he been hanging around Aveline a lot lately? That was a perfect 'what are you doing, Hawke, I can see you're up to something.'

"Are you going to be okay with this? Because, I need you to civil and I have some bad news," says Hawke, carefully. Clauda and Estelle can see her mouth a little prayer and cross her fingers.

"What happened, are you alright?" Zevran says instantly.

"I'm fine, nobody's hurt me in any way," she says, quickly.

"Oh. Okay. That's... good, I'm glad," Zevran says after taking a deep breath. "What's the trouble then?"

"I... was angry, earlier today," she begins, quietly.

"...is anyone _else_ hurt? I assume it could not have been too bad, if... given your current company," Zevran asks carefully.

"No, I kept my magic under control. But, I said something I didn't mean to say." She hesitates, then adds, "About you. I'm really sorry, Zevran, I've been careful until now,"

"I... what did you say about me?" Zevran asks, tone apprehensive but controlled. "Please just say it quickly, my love."

"I mentioned that you were... sold." She sighs. "Only Estelle and Claudia were there, and Isabela."

Zevran lets out a slow breath. "That is not so bad, my love. It is... not exactly a secret, should one know who to ask. Especially after... Danarius came back."

"Is that who hurt you?" Estelle demands, voice wrathful. She winces then. "I- sorry, I just..."

"I am surprised that one such as your-" Zevran cuts himself off.

"Zevran." She's not as expressive as Aveline, but it's pretty clear what her meaning was. "And yes, Estelle, but as I said earlier, he's dead."

"I stopped," Zevran mutters under his breath, not accustomed to the ring he's using or how sensitive it is. Louder, he adds, "so... why the call?"

"Two things. One, I wanted you to know what happened. Two, we wanted to make it up to you."

"Make it up to me? How? And why?" he asks, somewhat suspiciously.

"It... for... various reasons, I wish... for the two of us to have a.... an amicable relationship at least," Estelle says carefully. "Having this knowledge- without your consent- makes that... difficult."

"And so you wish to rebalance things? As I said, it is not truly a secret," Zevran replies, though he does sound intrigued.

"Still, I didn't have your permission to talk about your secrets."

Zevran is silent a moment, then asks, "what, exactly, did she learn?"

"That you were... sold, by your- by those who share blood with you," Estelle says, voice tight. "And... Hawke had asked for books about helping people come back from trauma and... being broken. Putting that together... is perhaps more than could be found from rumors, I suspect."

"Yes," Zevran agrees through gritted teeth.

"I wasn't thinking of you when I asked that," she says, quietly. "Not really. Claudia was talking about ways to dest-- you know what, I'm going to start that sentence over. Claudia was talking about how you have to be careful not to break people when you let them sub for you, and how they take great pains, and that they have some books on the subject of putting people back together, and I wanted to know anything I can about healing people, in case it helps my clinics. But, with the little I let slip earlier..."

"She has a good mask, but I've been trained to read people since before I starting walking. I... it is strangely fitting. What Hawke just mentioned. About subbing. That's..." Estelle swallows, visibly screwing up her nerve. "That's what I wish to offer, in compensation," she finishes in a rush.

"You think letting you fuck me is compensation?" Zevran asks incredulously.

"No! Well, yes, but- letting you fuck me, actually," the drow tries to explain weakly.

"Wait, you're going to let him top you?" Claudia demands. "A male? Your-" She swallows the end of that sentence. "Estelle, you can't _do_ that."

Here Hawke cuts in. "First of all, remember what I said. Zevran's not my inferior, or my subordinate, or anything. He's my partner. There shouldn't be any shame in that. Secondly," she begins, with a frown. "Estelle, I didn't think you enjoyed...?"

"I... do not mind it," Estelle says tightly. "I prefer to top, yes, but done properly, soft submission can be.... relaxing. But in this case, it's... I understand you consider him your equal partner. Your equal in full. And I can respect that. He is not of our culture, regardless of... of his blood. But that wouldn't matter to anyone else. I would have willingly submitted to not just a male, but an outsider of no... official power or rank even in his own society. That would be... damaging to my reputation," she explains softly. "Deeply so, given my rank."

Zevran doesn't say anything to Estelle, instead addressing Hawke. "My love, I ... I cannot... I need to- we can discuss this later," he finishes abruptly. Right after this, they can hear the sounds of a door being opened sharply, then the merikos drow call out for Aveline.

 _Fuck. Estelle!_ Hawke nods. "Alright, love," she calls, a bit louder than before. _Dammit, why didn't you warn me what you intended?_

Estelle is silent, gaze on the table, Claudia gripping her arm tightly. After a moment, Aveline is heard asking what's wrong, then making a startled noise. Another moment passes, then, "Hawke, what happened? Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry, I really am, but something's come up and I have to go. Give everyone my love?"

"Do I need to know anything? Zevran just shoved the ring at me, then went into your room," Aveline asks worriedly.

"Please look after him for me?" she asks, with a small, suppressed whine. "It wasn't meant to be like this. This shouldn't have been as big of a deal as it was."

"I'm sorry, I thought it would..." Estelle whispers.

"...alright. I'll go... talk to him," Aveline says gently. "Take care of yourself, amata. Be well." And with that, she closes the connection to look after Zevran.

Hawke holds up a hand to gesture Estelle into silence while Aveline signs off. When she hears the connection close, she hangs her head, cradling it in both hands for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is even, but there's a quiet intensity to it. "Did you really just offer him the lightweight, fun version of sex slavery as payment?"

Estelle stares at her in horror. "No! That's not- I didn't- subbing is _not_ the same as slavery," she insists. "I can stop, I can pause, set limits, I... it's different," she finishes softly. "I... oh Ciren, did I..." _How do I fix this mistake, this imbalance?_ "I just, I just wanted to make it even, I didn't..."

Claudia starts to rub Estelle's arm slowly. "This is pretty bad but you didn't mean to hurt him. It'll be hard, but we can make it right. Just... talk to us- to Hawke- next time. Alright?" She throws a glance at Hawke, pleading for help, support, assurance.

Hawke shakes her head, standing so she can pace the bedroom. "Sex is... Zevran is very, very Cirenite. The idea of using sex as a punishment, as a weapon to hurt someone, and using it in a way that reminds him of his past..."

"Oh. I... sex is... it's like speaking to me. It can be used for anything without... diminishing the rest of what it can do," Estelle tries to explain. "I can see it, the connection you just said, now that you pointed at it, I just didn't... What if- would it be- if it wasn't sexual? If I spent a day... doing his housework or something? That would still be..."

"I don't _know_ ," she half-growls, her frustration showing through for the first time around Estelle. _Astea preserve me from fools._ She takes a deep breath, not liking where her thoughts are going. _In Astea, all are worthy. In Astea, all are loved. In Astea, all are equal._ The catechism helps ease the edge off her anger, just as Father Lelldorin, her mind-healer, suggested it might -- not much, but enough to help ground her in her real values.

"I have been walking the knife-edge line between scaring him and angering him since I first told him you were a drow. And walking the inverted knife-edge between being a hero and being a diplomat the whole while. I don't _know_ what would help. I won't know until we talk to him again, which can't be before _tomorrow_. Anything could happen now, and I won't be there to--" _This isn't helping._ She stops herself, takes a breath, starts again. "So I would _appreciate_ your sharing any plans you have toward my lover in advance from now on."

Estelle pales, head bowing a little. "I agree to your demand and swear to obey," Estelle says softly. She swallows painfully. "If... if you like, I can arrange for a teleportation back to Nyra," she whispers. Next to her, Claudia is silent, knowing her wife needs to handle this herself. Though that doesn't stop her from rubbing her arm slowly, offering mute promise of her love.

Hawke pauses her pacing, looking up with naked hope and eagerness on her face before she closes off again. "No. I wouldn't have a good way to get back, and this trip is important." She takes a breath, lets it out, begins pacing again. "I'm not angry with you, Estelle, not really. Zevran is.. I don't know if I've given you the full understanding of just how precious he is to me, Hearing him take that tone rends my heart. And I'm a hero -- I don't do well when I'm not allowed to rush to the rescue. So I'm frustrated."

"I could get you back as well," Estelle clarifies. "Teleportation of that range is outside my current power but I can use scrolls easily enough." She licks her lips. "Though I am glad you are still willing to return," she adds in a much softer voice.

 _Two teleportation scrolls? That's a lot of gold, Estelle... and for personal use so it would come out of your personal funds.. though..._ Claudia watches Hawke pace, tense and hurting, remembers the look of hope and relief at the thought of being home and nods very slightly. _Worth it, I think. For... our friend. Huh._

"I can reimburse you," she says automatically. "At least part of the cost. Yes, please, let's go home. Just for a little while. Claudia, can you cover for us? Make sure it's not, nobody thinks this is a slight against the enclave?"

"What? No, I'm not letting Estelle go alone," Claudia says flatly. "You need to worry about Zevran, so someone needs to be there to keep Estelle from whipping herself."

"Claudia," Estelle hisses at her wife.

"Teleportation scrolls can take three people at base," the merikos gnome says firmly. "I'm going. We can leave from Captain Isabela's ship, tell people we're just... having some fun there for the night."

"Alright, no arguments here." says Hawke. "Let's get going. The sooner we're there, the better."

Things move rather fast once a plan is decided on. Less than an hour later, the trio suddenly appear ten minutes away from the front gate of Nyra -- the closest the city wards will let them teleport. Estelle is wearing a glamour and cloak with a hood, but Hawke's face is very visible and she's wearing both her ring of office and her stole to make sure she's recognized. Fifteen minutes after arriving, Hawke is carefully slipping into her house. The living room appears to be empty, but she spots Aveline's cloak and shield resting against the couch so despite the late hour so presumably, everyone is still here. She kneels for a moment to pat the dog -- Silence would be raising an alarm if anyone else tried this, she trusts -- then heads for the back bedroom quietly.

Silence accepts the pats, eyeing the two new strangers. She glances up at Hawke, wordlessly asking what their status is. Getting the go ahead, she moves over to inspect the pair. Estelle is very wary, body tense, but Claudia eagerly offers a hand to be sniffed. _An actual wolf! Amazing! I had thought that wolves were wild animals but evidently they can be domesticated?_

The door to the bedroom is closed but not locked. She can't hear anything, so if there's something happening inside, it's quietly done. Cracking open the door, she can peek inside. There's a bit of a huddle happening, but it's perhaps not the huddle she was expecting. Aveline is sitting up against the headboard with Merrill curled in a ball in her lap. Aveline is wearing her under tunic and leggings in lieu of night clothes, but Merrill is nude. The paladin is also awake, her eyes snapping over to the door despite Hawke's attempt at being quiet. Her eyes widen in shock and she glances back at where she'd been staring before- Zevran, sitting crossed-legged on the floor in the corner of the room. From the look of him, he's either asleep or meditating. He's wearing a pair of his typical leather pants, his chest rising and falling slowly, regularly.

Hawke swallows back her first few comments, choosing her approach carefully. Finally, she says softly, in Elven, "My warrior?"

"I think he's asleep," Aveline whispers in the same. "He shut himself in here for a while, but didn't object when Merrill finally came in. Didn't talk, just paced and... stalked around the room. He didn't want to be touched, so..." she gestures at Merrill in her lap with her chin. "He settled down like that about twenty minutes ago. He..." She bites her lip. "He muttered something about... needing to remember."

Hawke nods, moving to sit before him, crossing her own legs akin to his. "Then I will remind him." She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, taking a moment to center herself.

Then she lets herself fall.

The fear, the doubt, the uncertainty. The way he fled from her, from the situation, from Estelle. Further back, the way he acted after Denarius, the way she couldn't go to him, how she made it clear he couldn't trust her. She stops holding it back, lets the imp run free, reminding her of pain after pain he's suffered that she was unable to soothe.

The air grows colder around them, the smell of snow and ice rising between the pair of them. Zevran doesn't react at first, then he takes a longer, deeper breath in through his nose. "Hawke?" he murmurs after a moment.

In the bed, Aveline watches with concern, then a flicker of a smile at Merrill's sleepy growl at the sudden chill. It takes a moment of wriggling, but Aveline manages to get some blanket free in order to cover the elf, who settles.

By then, Zevran is shivering slightly and his eyes flutter open. "Hawke?" he repeats, voice firmer, more aware.

For a moment longer, she doesn't respond, lost in her own pain. Then his voice really registers, and she opens her eyes, meeting his gaze. "My warrior," she murmurs, raising her hand to his cheek.

Zevran shivers at her touch but leans into it eagerly. "This is a much better dream than the one I sought," he whispers sadly.

"It's no dream, my warrior," she whispers. "I'm sorry, I failed you. I got Estelle to arrange a teleport, she's waiting in the living room."

Zevran blinks a few times, trying to catch up. "You're... here?" he whispers. Then he tenses. "Estelle? She's-" His eyes bore into her and he leans forward, as if readying to lunge. " _Who is she?_ Why do I know her voice?" he demands.

"Please." Hawke's voice cracks, and she looks down at her hands.

"Who is she?" Zevran repeats, off balance and confused with his thoughts and surrounding demanding him react in different ways. "What- what's going on?"

"I..." She takes a deep breath. "I'm falling for her, Zevran. She's special to me."

Zevran stills for a moment, eyes still on hers. "...I... I don't know what to do with that. I- I know her voice. When she- I-" He licks his lips, eyes haunted. "'He is not of our culture, regardless of his blood," he recites. "I've heard that before, in that _voice_. From- from-"

"You need to talk to her," she says, helplessly. "I think she knows where you came from."

Zevran nods jerkily, still trying to come back from his cobbled together mediation memory dive. "...you're here," he says suddenly, sounding perplexed.

"I am," she whimpers. _My love, please be okay. Please wake up._

"... did I put myself in a coma or something?" he asks, baffled. Aveline snorts from the bed, causing him to glance at her. His eyebrow shoot up. "Perhaps for longer than I realized, to have finally convinced our lovely paladin to share a bed with you and our flower."

A relieved smile graces her lips. "Estelle paid for a teleport. I had to come back, after-- after."

"Merrill needed someone to hold and... I couldn't leave her to be alone,~ Aveline comments, voice low but eyes promising retribution when Zevran is better.

"Oh. That was... good of her?" he offers. "You're missed."

"It's just for the night, but..." She hesitates, looking down at her lap as she tries to get a grip on her emotions. Zevran leans forward for a kiss, moving slow enough to be refuted if she wishes. She kisses him, sinking into it, cleaving to him as though she were the one needing warmth and comfort.

Aveline rolls her eyes. _Really, the two of them... Well, truth be told, I wouldn't mind a soft kiss and a long hug but still. Surprised neither of them have steam burns._

Pulling back, Zevran kisses the tip of Hawke's nose. "I shall be glad to have any time with you I can," he whispers huskily. "Thank you."

"Hi," she says, a silly grin on her face.

 _Still Hawke. Still my wonderful, glorious, loving hawk._ "Hi," he whispers back, a smile of his own in place.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I didn't know what she was going to offer. It's..."

Zevran winces. "It... is a bit insulting," he agrees. "I gather it was done out of ignorance, given that you mentioned bringing her along?"

"Yes," she says quietly. "In her culture, that's a grand gesture. She views sex as truly neutral, something akin to conversation. The only meaning is in the context."

Zevran considers that a moment, mulling it over. Finally he nods. "I can... respect that, a great deal actually. Much nicer than the common way of looking at sex," he allows. "I... do not think I could accept her offer but that wasn't what..." He trails off, looking haunted again. "I think I _do_ have to speak with her. How... how long are you..?"

"Just tonight. We can-- she's in the living room, we can go talk to her, we can cuddle? I-- I missed you."

Zevran winces a little. "Do you trust her? Really?"

"I really do," she confirms.

Zevran studies her for a moment, then nods. He rises to his feet, saying, "then I need to ask her why she sounds exactly like my mother," without looking back at Hawke.

 _Ugh. I hoped that wasn't it._ She jumps up as well, murmuring to Aveline, "Sorry about all this," as she dashes after Zevran.

Estelle is in the living room, her glamour still in place, making her appear as a human, but her hood down. Claudia is on the floor, trying to coax Beka to come be pet like Silence. Beka, however, was not given the go ahead to allow this person such liberties and is being very stoically polite. Hearing people coming, Estelle glances over and sees them- and promptly pales.

"Ah, he-"

"Who are you?" Zevran demands. "To me? You're not- her, but you- who are you?"

Estelle tosses a desperate look at Hawke even as Claudia scrambles to her feet to give support.

"Just tell him," Hawke advises, sounding tired, small. "He's had a hard week."

 _Just tell him. Right. Okay,_ "I'm your aunt. Varisia is my older sister," she says bravely. "We haven't- I haven't spoken with her in decades however."

Zevran stares a moment. "Did you know? Before you-"

"No! I found out after I met Hawke. I- your name is a family name, so I suspected that maybe possibly but I wasn't sure until yesterday," Estelle says quickly. "I care for Hawke for her own sake, her own merit. That she saved you, loves you is... good, but it's not why I like her. Not all of why, I mean."

Hawke gives a tired smile to Estelle. _I care for Hawke._ In the middle of this shitstorm, it's useful for her to take a moment and really feel that small happiness. Estelle catches the smile and blushes a little, the sight a bit strange. Her features are still the same save for her round ears, making her appear more merikos than human in most regards, but having her skin and hair being lightly tanned and a soft blonde are somewhat bizarre.

"Why haven't- what happened yesterday that confirmed things?" he asks after a moment.

"A letter, from your mother," she says, darkly. "It made me angry to talk about."

"From- she... just wrote you a letter? _You_?" he says, this tone making it clear what he thinks about his so-called mother popping up just to write _someone else_ after all these years.

"Err, well, Hawke," Estelle says helplessly.

"If she wasn't a coward she wouldn't have--" Hawke cuts herself off. "I've been making waves. The letter was left with Isabela, with my name on it. She thanked me for--" She cuts herself off again, taking a deep breath. "I'll let you read it when I get back."

"I, uh, I have it... if you wanted to read it," Claudia offers. "Thought I should grab it, just in case..."

Zevran takes a deep breath. "Hawke... do you think reading it..."

"Maybe not this second, no. Is there anything you need to know right now that might be in it?"

"...did she say... did she even mention that she... saw me? When I was Denarius's slave?" Zevran asks a little brokenly.

Estelle makes a pained noise as the lighting dims for a moment. Just a moment however, as she quickly controls herself. Zevran blinks, startled, then he looks at Hawke. "Did she...?" _Do the same thing you do?_

"Yes," she says to the latter question, her voice tightly controlled. She takes a deep breath. "She knows what happened to you. She di-- she sai--" Another deep breath, her hands tightly clenched into fists, the air still cool around her. "She recognized you."

"Why... why didn't she..." Zevran asks, sounding lost.

"I'm sorry," Estelle whispers. "I- if I'd know- if we'd known- you would never- everything we've built is to protect the family. That she just let you... I can't..." She gestures vaguely, unable to put her feelings to words.

"Because she doesn't deserve the breath she was born with," she snarls, finally unable to hold back any longer. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Sorry, Estelle, but you know it's true."

Estelle winces, looking aside. "I... I can't... She's my sister, I love her, I have to give her the chance to explain if she... but it would take a very good explanation," she admits, sagging a little. "And I'd probably slap her for- I just don't- why didn't she at least tell us you existed?" she demands of the air.

"My father..." Zevran takes a deep breath. "He told me, a few years before he died, that... that my... that she said that merikos are not welcome with her people. That living with him would at least give me a chance. I... always though that was the only kindness she had in her. Was..?"

His aunt is giving him a baffled look. "My aunt Grace is merikos and is very well respected. There is some bias towards purebloods yes, but the only 'right' they are denied is the ability to become Matriarch. Which, as a male, you would be ineligible for anyway. I can't understand why she would think that."

"Because he's male." She sighs. "Nothing excuses what she did. Nothing. But Zevran would not be as amazing as he is if he were raised among Drow, even your surface enclave."

"Ummm... maybe... maybe it's related to why your mother was hiding that she wasn't still in contact with Varisia?" Claudia suggests. At the looks she gets, she adds, "I just- you mentioned that the last time she was at the Enclave, her and your mother had a big fight, then we found out that Alaedha was lying about being in contract with her so..."

"I... perhaps, but I don't..." Estelle frowns, trying to recall how her mother interacts with Grace. "I... suppose that Mother and Aunt Grace aren't close, I think but..."

Hawke pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay, look. Why don't we all sit down, and I'll make some tea, and we'll talk."

"Tea sounds lovely," Zevran says absently, lost in his thoughts.

"Yes, thank you Hawke," Estelle agrees, Claudia nodding as well. "And not just for the tea," she murmurs.

Hawke goes to the kitchen, putting on some water to boil while she takes a few minutes to breathe. _Get ahold of yourself, Hawke. You shouldn't have-- you should have just shook his shoulder or something, look at you, you're a mess. No, stop it. Breathe. It'll be okay. You're home, for the moment, you can protect him for a little bit. It's fine. It's going to be fine._

"Hawke," a strong, familiar voice says from behind her. A beat later, warm arms pull her back into a hug. "They're in the living room, take a moment for yourself, amata."

Hawke leans back against Aveline, and the tears begin to slide down her cheeks. "Aveline," she breathes, and it's a prayer.

"Just let go, just for a minute," she tells her lover. "I have you."

"I did so much of this wrong," she whimpers, turning to sob against Aveline's shirt.

"Shhhh," Aveline says, rubbing her back. "It'll work out. The younger one- Claudia?- was busy babbling about wolves and petting Silence when I walked by. Zevran and Estelle looked distracted by amused. And neither are glaring at each other" She kisses Hawke's forehead gently. "Think about that- Zevran is sitting in the same room as a drow- sloppy glamour or not- and he's... fine."

"Thank you, my love," she whispers, closing her eyes and taking comfort from her warmth.

"Hmmm," Aveline says softly, nuzzling Hawke's temple. "I should warn you- Merrill campaigned successfully to get the ban against sleep aids waived for the week after you get back as it's been recognized that you're going to be... busy at night. The bribed me with your first night back," she confesses. "I hope you don't mind."

"Mind spending the night with you? Never. Mind that she made that call without asking? Oh yeah." She grins. "Thankfully, I have some great ideas on how to punish her."

Aveline scowls a little. "Yes, Seli explained that to me. Not a chance," she warns Hawke. "We're equals, in bed or out of it. Orders and command are for duty, not love."

"Sure," she says easily. "It's just a game, nothing more. I'm not going to push you into playing any games you're not comfortable with."

Aveline relaxes a little. "Good. Thank you, amata." She kisses Hawke again, tenderly, then adds, "I could be wrong, but I think Merrill might have done this to get punished."

"That minx," she says fondly.

"It was a bit amusing to watch both Varric _and_ Zevran look mortified and awkward as she went on about being excited to see what 'really neat things you learned from your wonderful new drow friend.' She used a lot more words of course but I can't recall them all." Aveline smiles faintly at the memory. "Didn't help that Seli keep chiming in with offers of getting supplies if they need them. And to take notes."

Hawke flinches a little. "I didn't sub for Estelle," she points out. "But, that's a story for later."

Aveline raises an eyebrow but doesn't press. "Learned second-hand then." She breathes in slowly. "I do like the new scent you're wearing. Lavender something?"

"Estelle's quite fond of lavender," she says absently.

 _But you're not learning about that subbing thing from her? Interesting..._ "Then I should thank her sometime," the paladin remarks, leaning down to kiss Hawke again. "Feeling better?"

"Some, yes," she admits. "Thank you. This means a lot to me, having you to rely on."

"I'm your shield," Aveline says simply. "You give me love and light and I protect you." _My own aspect of Astea,_ the paladin thinks almost fancifully. Of all the seventeen gods, Vangal and Astea were the closest -- it was said she elevated him to godhood because he was so devoted to protecting her, and in return, his worshippers protect hers more fervently than anyone else's. Many are the plays and ballads about Asteans and Vangalites.

"Always," the Astean promises.

 _One last kiss,_ Aveline thinks fondly. _And one more after that. That'll have to last me._ It takes the kettle whistling, but she finally does pull back. "We should rejoin the others."

She sighs, nodding. "Yeah. I guess so."

"It'll be fine," Aveline says. "No screaming yet, right?"

And indeed, when they take the tea tray out into the living room, the three are still alive and peaceable. Claudia's doing, mostly, as the merikos gnome is still babbling, now about her study of clockwork gears for the use of timing devices. That path there from wolves must have been... interesting.

"Oh hi, Hawke, you're back, ooh, tea, great, my throats parched!" she says rapidly.

Zevran shakes his head. "It's like Merrill trying to mimic Varric," he observes, slightly stunned. "At least she has to breathe though."

"Isn't she the best?" agrees Hawke. "I knew I'd like her from how Estelle talked of her, but I underestimated just how great she really is."

Claudia blushes beet red. "Umm, thank you?" she mumbles, eyes locked on her hands as they twist in her lap. Estelle chuckles softly, placing her own hands atop her wife's. "And so beautiful when she blushes," she purrs. Hawke smiles, simply pouring tea for each of them.

Zevran snickers, chiming in, "yes, a blush truly is the best form of make-up, isn't-" He cuts off, staring, as he recalls who just spoke. "... isn't it." he finally finishes. He licks his lips, then adds carefully, "I should ask... Hawke, any idea if we're that type of family? Should I not be complimenting my... aunt-electi?"

Estelle's eyes widen in shock, then glimmer with tears before she averts her gaze to gather herself.

"Well, look at that, all your dreams are coming true," jokes Hawke. "Now you're part of _that_ kind of family."

"Are we now?" Zevran muses.

"Sorry, 'that' kind of family?" Estelle asks curiously, her voice a little thick.

"The family that loves together, stays together."

"...don't most families love each other?"

"Fucks together?"

"Oh! Yes, of course we do. Why wouldn't we fuck each other? We're attractive and wonderful."

"...alright, perhaps I can accept we're related. She has good taste at least."

Claudia and Aveline both sigh, exchange startled glances, them half-smiles.

Hawke grins. "You see? You see why I lo-ike her?" The room goes rather... quiet as everyone turns to look at Hawke. Yeah, they all caught that. All of them. She reddens. "I-- shut up, it was a slip of the tongue."

"Sure it was," Aveline says with a sigh. "I swear Hawke, I was joking when I thought of you as my own avatar of Astea, you don't have to-" She cuts offer, turning red as the stares redirect to her. "Slip of tongue, can happen to anyone," she agrees firmly, nodding at Hawke. "So. How's the tea?" she asks, voice firm and commanding.

"Good thank you ma'am," Claudia says instantly, taking a sip to prove it. Estelle purses her lips, giving Aveline a... interested look.

"Oh, this is Aveline, in case you couldn't place the voice," says Hawke, after a moment.

Estelle blinks a few times, the name and everything else actually just connecting. "She's a pa-" She clears her throat. "It's nice to met you in person."

"Likewise," the Paladin says easily, finally taking a seat next to Hawke. "Hawke speaks highly of you, of both of you."

"I mean, I hope I speak highly of everyone in the room, given how much I respect all of you," Hawke teases.

"Ummm... could we... backtrack," Estelle asks almost timidly. "To, uh, the first tongue slip?"

She blushes. "I'd-- rather not?" she asks, weakly. "I didn't mean to... I promise I'm not expecting anything from you."

Estelle bites her lip, glancing down at Claudia nervously. The merikos gnome just smiles as she leans to kiss her wife's cheek. "It's fine, I trust her." She pauses. "I trust you," she whispers, blushing a little. "So... its okay."

Zevran watches this with a slightly blank face. Finally, he sighs, then looks at Hawke with a smile. Hawke beams back at him, as if to say, _you see?_ "Yes, yes, she's very nice," Zevran says, rolling his eyes. "I should have know that if there were any drow worth loving, you'd fuck them. I mean find them."

Estelle snickers. "Actually... not yet. But tomorrow night," she says lazily, lips curving wickedly. "I'll be sure to order up some restorative tonics."

Hawke sits up straighter. "Really?" She glances to Claudia, for whatever reason.

Claudia nods. "I... it wasn't fair of me, to ask that of Estelle, even if she offered it. If I trust her, then I trust her," she says softly. "I should know her well enough to know she won't leave me, not for anyone." She smiles at Hawke then. "Even you, as wonderful as you are."

"Claudia," Estelle whispers, pulling her wife close for a long, slow kiss.

"You won't regret it," Hawke says, with a warm smile. "Not on my account, anyway."

"Wait, you've not had sex yet?" Zevran asks, surprised.

Estelle shakes her head. "Claudia and I had an arrangement that precluded such, until just now," she explains. "But we've... had some fun nevertheless. Foreplay, if you will." She gives Hawke a hungry look. "But for tonight, is there a guest room or should we-"

"There is," Hawke confirms.

"Then... it's getting late. Perhaps we should sleep, then have breakfast before returning? You should enjoy tonight with your wife and har- Clan," Estelle says firmly. "Claudia and I can cuddle."

"Alright. Thank you again for doing this, Estelle."

"It's for... family. And Clan," Estelle says, flashing a smile. "I'm just... glad I didn't ruin things by not thinking things through well enough," she adds, flushing.

"I... I would have been insulted and annoyed normally, by your offer, but not nearly so badly if it were not for the memory you plucked," Zevran explains. "I... understand now, what you intended and we can discuss it again later, but for now, I am just pleased to be able to hold my love for the night."

With that, Marian sighs, letting herself relax. "Then, let's get to the holding part?" she asks, hunger in her eyes.

Estelle rises to her feet, pulling Claudia up after her. "If you follow me, I'll show you to the guest room," Aveline offers, giving Hawke a look that clearly says she'll give her and Zevran a few minutes to talk before joining them in the bedroom. Merrill is there, but the elf of slumber wouldn't notice if they had wild sex right next to her on the bed much less a conversation.

Hawke tugs Zevran back to the bedroom, leaving the remains of the tea to clean up later. Once they're inside the bedroom, Zevran pulls Hawke in close. For once, he's not kissing her, tasting her, even stroking or gripping her. He just holds her. Marian rests her head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, feeling his warmth. "I missed you," she whispers, squeezing him a little tighter.

"I'm sorry," he whispers back. "I will be better, I swear it."

"You're already good enough for me," she whispers. "You always have been. I just... I just want you to be alright."

Zevran shakes his head. "I should have trusted you."

"Yes," she agrees. "But trusting is hard."

Zevran winces. "It's just so damn hard to... I'm afraid what I'll feel when I see.. Estelle without that glamour in place," he confesses shamefully.

"I'll be here," she says simply. "As you were here for me when... when I learned to be around Andy."

Zevran blinks a few times, his mouth opening, then closing. "...huh."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "That's why I know you can get past this."

"With you by my side, how could I do any less," he murmurs, kissing her cheek.

She rubs his back gently. "How are you doing now?"

"...I am not certain. I love you. This I can be sure of. I... everything else about this is a mess," he says with a sigh. "I am pleased, I think, that you have made a friend. That you love yet again. The who, however, that... I do not know."

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "My stupid heart does what it wants."

"It wanted me, so who am I to complain?" Zevran replies, humorously but also entirely truthfully.

"One of its better moments," she agrees.

"If you say so," he replies, then runs his hands down her arms. "You're somewhat overdressed, you realize. That's rather..." he trails off, frowning, as his eyes flick out of the room.

"What's wrong?" she asks quickly, seeing his gaze.

"Hmm? Oh, not- Aveline. I assume she would be more comfortable if I at least was clothed, no? And she has been very good this last week or so, keeping us... sane and, ah, not invading," he explains, looking abashed at that last part.

Hawke sighs. "Yes, unfortunately." She nuzzles his shoulder, then releases him, stepping back.

"Do you have a pair of shorts I can borrow?" he asks. "Leather is not the best to sleep in, even the leather I wear."

"Maybe? You might fit my nightgown, if not."

"I'm okay with that," he says with a grin, padding over to the dresser, stripping off the pants as he goes. Which, of course, is when Aveline slips into the room. She freezes a second, gaze on his bare backside, then shakes her head a little. Zevran grabs a nightgown out of the dresser and slips it over his head, causing Aveline to pause yet again.

"Cuddles?" Hawke asks, of Aveline.

"You didn't..." Aveline shakes his head. "Thank you. And yes," she adds to Hawke. "How should we... arrange things?" she asks, somewhat nervously.

"Hawke in the center, Merrill atop, one of us to each side?" Zevran suggests.

"That sounds perfect."

\---

Aveline, clever lass that she is, pulls something of a fast one. Once Hawke and Zevran drift off, she gives all three of them a little bit of healing touch. They'll still sleep for a bit, still more or less feel like they slept the night, but they'll be up earlier than normal. It'll give them all a few precious hours more together before Hawke has to head back to the Enclave.

Given that Merrill's reaction to waking up atop Hawke is... well, let's just go with that it was a very wise thing.

\---

Two hours past dawn finds Aveline in the kitchen making griddle cakes. She's not nearly as... prudish or stand-offish as she used to be, but she can only take so much before bowing out, even under special circumstances. Soon enough however, she's joined by the rest of her Clan. Speaking of which...

"Merrill...."

Blinking owlishly, the elf glances over, then nods. "Oh right, forgot," she says brightly before grabbing an apron to protect her bare skin. Claudia comes out after that and tentatively heads for the table, not batting an eye at the mostly naked elf. Well, she checks her out but it's rather casually done. "Ummm... good morning," the merikos gnome offers.

"Morning," says Hawke, with a yawn. "This is my wife Merrill, she was already asleep last night when we came in. Merrill, this is Claudia, Estelle's wife."

Merrill lets out a squeal, causing Claudia to start. And then let out a squeal of her own when the elf glomps her. "Oh! Hello! You're here! Oh this is wonderful I wanted to met you so much because Hawke was talking about you and you sound so fun and clever like Papa and she has that soft smile in her voice when she talks about you and your wife and I love that voice so I already have love you for putting it there and oh this is ever so lovely is your wife here too please say yes?"

"Thank, she's too kind, ummm you're welcome, that's sweet and yes?" Claudia manages as she fumblingly hugs Merrill back.

Her response just encourages the hugging monster. Zevran is just about dying at this point: having been sipping his tea when this started, he's currently trying to resume normal breathing patterns. Aveline just sighs as she continues to make the griddle cakes. Her careful avoidance of turning around has nothing to do with hiding her face, nor any smile that may or may not be in place.

Hawke stares at the pair, a huge grin on her face. _Is this how that first meeting with Merrill looked from the outside? How adorable!_

Merrill finally takes a step back, though she still has her arms around the merikos gnome. "Oh, I'm Merrill. Wait, Hawke said that, didn't she? Hi. Sorry, I'm really, really, really excited this morning. Hawke is here!"

Claudia chuckles a little. "I'm Claudia, she did, I can tell and she is." She glances around, then clears her throat. "So, uh..." She darts a glance at Zevran, then Hawke. "Kind of... overlooked something yesterday, a little? Maybe?"

"Did we?" she asks, with a small frown.

"Yeah, time. Estelle didn't cast that glamour and it's worn off so..." Claudia says awkwardly. Zevran tenses a little, but Merrill just looks puzzled.

"I see." Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You all know Estelle's race. Merrill can probably help with a mundane disguise to get us as far as the guard station, where Aveline can authorize an expedient removal for a visiting dignitary worried about hostile action and separated from her honor guard, right?" She looks at Aveline, hopefully.

Aveline frowns slightly, then sighs. "As much as I'd like to claim she can simply walk around in the open, as she's not committed any crime... yes, that might be for the best," she allows.

Before Merrill can comment on the disguise aspect, Zevran cuts in. "Merrill's not bad with such, but I do believe I am the expect here, no? A simple brunette wig and a hood would suffice, as she'll have a Light and Captain escort, no?"

"If you're alright with it," says Hawke, her tone carefully even.

Zevran studies his hands for a moment. "I want to be," he finally says, sighing softly and leaning back when Merrill wraps her arms around him from behind. "If... if I blame her for what... _she_ did, then ..." _Wouldn't that mean you're to blame for Carver's deeds?_ he doesn't say out loud. _It's probably not the healthiest method of correcting this... line of thinking, to make it about you, my ever-gleaming hawk, but if it can get me started down the path, perhaps better will follow._

"Thank you," Claudia says softly. "I'll go tell her that breakfast is almost ready then," she adds before slipping out of the kitchen.

Hawke reaches for Zevran's hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you."

Zevran squeezes back, eyes half closing. "If I... slip, kick me?" he requests, only half joking.

"Kiss you? Always." Hawke smirks, making it clear she's only pretending to mishear.

Merrill cocks her head to the side. "That doesn't seem likely to teach him to not do a thing," she observes.

"No, but he'll be ever much more pleasant to deal with," teases Hawke.

"Kissing is nice," Merrill allows, leaning over to try and kiss Zevran upside down. Can't pull it off though, so Zevran grabs her by the waist and spins her around to the side. Which means Claudia reenters the room,with Estelle gingerly following, to see the mostly naked Merrill half on the table being soundly kissed by Zevran.

"Oh my," Estelle murmurs, watching avidly.

"Good morning, Estelle. Breakfast?" Hawke smirks, enjoying the chance to turn the table on her new friend.

"Yeah, sure," she murmurs, head tilting a little to get a better angle of Merrill's body.

Claudia rolls her eyes and gives her wife a nudge. "Hmm, what? Oh, morning Hawke," Estelle manages, tearing her eyes away from the still ongoing kiss.

Hawke smirks. "That's my wife," she says with real pride in her voice.

Estelle blushes. "Sorry," she says quickly. "I didn't mean to... stare that directly." _Delicate, almost waifish, pliant and responsive... god, she's nearly perfect._ Clearing her throat- and trying to clear her thoughts- she moves towards the table. "Sleep well?"

The voices finally reaching the pair, Zevran and Merrill finally break their kiss, though Merrill is still pretty glazed. Zevran takes a deep breath and offers a slightly distracted 'morning' without looking away from Merrill's face.

"It's fine," laughs Hawke. "Merrill's a wonder. The treasure of our Clan."

"Treasure needs to get off the table so I can bring breakfast over," Aveline says, firmly not turning around. Merrill pouts a little, then slides off the table. Onto Zevran's lap. She wiggles in place, getting a groan from her lover, and smiles impishly.

"Oh! Hello Estelle! Lady Estelle? Oh, you're very pretty! I like your hair." Before she can get much further into her babble, Zevran wraps his arms around her and blows on her ear. Distracted, she goes silent long enough for Estelle to reply.

"Huh. Babbler are you?" She gives her wife a sidelong glance, then smirks at Hawke. "The similarities are striking between us, no?" Claudia scowls, but it's pretty clear she's not offended. She does pinch Estelle on the side, which gets and gentle smack in reply.

Hawke opens her eyes wide, blinking innocently. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Estelle snorts lightly. "Of course you haven't."

"I don't babble," Merrill protests, pouting cutely. "I'm just... outgoing," she adds primly.

"Hear hear!" Claudia says supportively. "We just have a lot to share." Merrill nods agreeably.

Hawke reaches up to pet Merrill's hair affectionately. "You're perfect," she coos.

Merrill continues to pout, though she also leans into the petting and her eyes close slightly.

Claudia glances at Estelle out of the corner of her eye, hoping for- oooh, pets. Zevran studies Estelle as she mimics Hawke's gesture is with lidded eyes, expression blank.

Aveline sets a large tray on the table between them all. "Double berry griddle cakes on the left, cocoa and nutmeg on the right," she announces.

Hawke pivots to plant her butt in a seat, keeping her hand on Merrill's head as she does. "Thank you, Aveline," she chirps.

"What are those?" Estelle asks, sounding mystified.

"I've heard of coke-ah, one of the caravaners mentioned it being a recently discovered import," Claudia eager shares as she fixes a plate to then hand to Estelle. "Some kind of drink I think she said?"

"It can be, yes. It's a... a spice, bitter by itself, but if sweetened, it has a rich flavor with a lot of nuance. Hawke got almost fifty pounds of it as thanks for helping one of the merchants importing it to Nyra with a spider problem," Aveline explains. "Merrill's slightly addicted to hot cocoa, the drink you can make from it."

" _Definitely_ try the cocoa ones, if you haven't had it before. It's quite good," suggests the hero.

Estelle nods, using the knife to cut a square of one and then stabbing it so she can eat it. Hawke had noticed that during her visit, but it's a bit strange to see Estelle doing it in Nyra. She had used forks and spoons last she was here, but perhaps she doesn't feel the need in the privacy of Hawke's home? Popping it in her mouth, she chews thoughtfully. "This is... very good, yes," she agrees.

Glancing at Claudia, she nods slightly, causing the merikos gnome to serve herself. "Afraid it was poisoned?" Zevran asks, trying to keep his voice light despite the seeming insult.

"What? Oh, no, it's just that..." Estelle trails off, realizing that 'I'm the dominant wife so she serves me first, then she can start eating' is probably going to offend.

"It's their culture," Hawke comments as she serves herself. "The higher-status partner eats the first bite. Much like how at a formal dinner here in Nyra, you wait until everyone has been served to begin."

Estelle gives Hawke a grateful look while Merrill looks thoughtful. "Who would eat after Hawke, for us?" she wonders aloud.

"Ah, well, if you applied our customs, you would," Estelle offers tentatively. "One's harem eats after the subordinate or lower-ranked wife. At a guess, based on Hawke's stories, it would be Aveline, then Bright Seli, followed by Isabela, Bright Wynne, Varric, Zevran, Andy and then the two children."

"I'm ranked at the front of- wait, _harem_?" Aveline asks.

"A terminology thing," Hawke jumps in. "It's-- their culture is... Apparently the Clan I've forged is actually very similar to their most basic family unit: a married couple with their lovers. And yes, your position as guard captain makes you the highest status of the Clan after myself, though I'd place Zevran above Isabela, since his business is larger than her ship and it's not like pirate captain is a formally recognized rank." She pauses, frowning to mull it over a moment, then adds, "Except, it should be, myself, Aveline, Merrill, because Aveline is the higher-status legally-bonded partner."

"Well... females would be ranked higher," Estelle explains quietly. "By drow custom, not..." She gestures at them.

"What's a higher rank than wife?" Claudia chimes in, not wanting that to linger overly long.

Aveline still has a slight frown, but replies, "I'm Hawke's Champion of Record. It's... something of a loophole in the law, a position normally used for underage nobles that allows a paladin in good standing to have rights equal not to a parent but a spouse. More equal than a normal regent, particularly in that I can't arrange a marriage on her behalf. Even if she were actually underage, I mean. If Merrill and I ever invoked our rights in conflict, it would... be very unclear who would win. Thankfully, I doubt such an event will ever arise."

"I think wife would win, in social pecking order at least," Estelle offers after a moment's thought. "If nothing else, it has more heft in social expectation."

Hawke tilts her head, thoroughly distracted from her breakfast. "See, I figure they're essentially both spouses, and Aveline has more status than Merrill."

Estelle considers this for a moment, finally shrugging. "We don't really have a standard for weighing wives against each other, as such is not allowed. The, ah, only traditional manner," she says delicately, "of gaining a second wife involves being widowed first."

"Though... multiple wives doesn't sound like a bad thing," Claudia offers.

"You wouldn't mind Estelle marrying someone else?" Aveline asks curious, much of her attention on Merrill, not the guests. For her part, the elf is paying attention but her expression is hard to judge due to the amount of griddle cake in her cheeks. She might be taking advantage of the whole 'no breathing' thing a bit much there... and also spending too much time with chipmunks and squirrels.

"Well... just her, maybe? Depends on... how them affected us. But married us? That could be okay," she replies, smiling faintly at Estelle comforting touch.

"I may be biased, but I like our style best," says Hawke, as she plops some griddle cake into her mouth.

"I have to confess, I am rather curious- how does Nyra handle multiple wives? I mean, you implied it's possible but how does it work?" Estelle asks as they all begin to eat. The breakfast passes in much the same manner as the start of it: tentative back and forth from Aveline and Estelle, more relaxed and exuberant additions from Claudia and Merrill, Hawke keeping things on course and coaxing understanding along while Zevran observes warily. All good things, however...

"Well.. we really do need to be getting back," Estelle finally says reluctantly. "Missing breakfast is understandable, lunch less so."

Hawke sighs, stifling a small whimper of regret. "Yes, I suppose so. It won't be... it won't be too long before I'm back for good, though, at least."

Estelle gives a mostly playful pout. "So eager to leave us? I'm hurt."

"I'm sorry, it's not you, it's me. The sex is just better with Zevran," she teases.

"Oh fuck no you didn't," Estelle says, standing up. "We can skip lunch. Bedroom, now."

Hawke laughs. "I'm telling you, there's no way you can top him."

"I can test it!" Merrill blurts out. "I mean, they could take turns and I could rate them?"

Claudia narrows her eyes. "You're a biased sample. I'll be the counter point, then we need a control sample, someone that hasn't been with either of them before the testing."

Merrill turns to look at Aveline, who turns bright red and starts sputtering 'no' shaped objections.

Zevran looks torn, conflicted and very grateful that Merrill spoke up before he could say something he may or may not regret.

"It's a subjective opinion," Hawke weighs in. "Clearly, they both need to take turns pleasing _me_ until Estelle either convinces me or gives in."

"I think Claudia's mentioned that larger sample sizes are... desirable," Estelle purrs, laying her hands flat on the table and leaning in. "I'm sure I can... _top_ any expectations you might have."

"Shall we find out?" Hawke asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Stalwart Vangal, I will smite you al-" Aveline cuts off as Estelle leaps back from the table, one hand pooling with energy as the other yanks Claudia with her.

"She's not serious!" blurts Marian, rapidly.

Estelle takes a few deep breaths, eyes wide. Aveline, for her part, simply stills, not moving at all until Estelle's brain catches up with her instincts The glow in her hand fades away and her body relaxes slowly. "I- I s-s-sorry, I-"

Aveline shakes her head slightly. "It's fine. That was... an old joke, but a poor one for new company," she says soothingly.

Hawke nods, trying to put Estelle at ease. "Aveline threatens to smite me regularly. Last time I think it was, if I let the dog onto the bed with us?"

"I get it more often- she gets flustered when I flirt too... directly or for too long," Zevran says quietly. "Hawke mostly gets it for being... flippant, often with legal niceties."

Merrill tilts her head. "She never offers to smite me..."

Aveline snorts. "Merrill, I'd sooner threaten to kick a puppy."

"Aveline!" Merrill says, sounding horrified.

"It's true. You're so cute and innocent, it's impossible to be mad at you," says Hawke with a sage nod.

Estelle rather awkwardly shifts her weight. And then realizes she's still gripping Claudia's wrist. Letting go, she bows slightly. "I'm sorry about... overreacting. I just..."

"Run ins with zealots using faith to justify bigotry?" Aveline offers, getting a wide-eyed look from Estelle.

"The scar on her shoulder," Claudia says softly. Hawke would have seen the one- it's small, maybe two or three inches, and thin. Hard to tell how deep it was of course, but probably not a bad wound -- not that it matters, when magical healing is involved. Wounds never scar after a healing unless the wound was traumatic. "She was ten," she adds bitterly.

"Claudia," the drow hisses, embarrassed.

"Ah," says Hawke knowingly. "Some day, remind me to give you both the scar-tour that is my body."

"I'm sorry," Aveline says softly.

Estelle shakes her head. "It was nothing you did. I honestly barely recall it, I just... I suppose I have a few prejudices of my own."

"So.... how about we celebrate our newfound similarities with an orgy?" Hawke asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Wasn't five times enough this morning?" Aveline asks with mild exasperation. And then blushes deeply as her brain reminds her of company.

"That was _this morning_ ," Estelle and Zevran both protest, causing Merrill and Claudia to burst into giggles.

"What they said," Hawke laughs. "But seriously -- we ought to get going."

Merrill whines softly but rises to give Hawke a hug. A tight one. "Love you," she whispers. Zevran reaches over to take her hand.

Estelle clears her throat. "We'll go get our things so you can- eek!"

"I really liked meeting you," Merrill mumbles into Estelle's shoulder. The drow hesitates a second, glancing at Hawke to judge her reaction as she rests one hand on Merrill's upper back, and the other on her bum. Hawke, having hugged Merrill back, smiles at Estelle as she holds Zevran's hand.

Estelle gives Merrill a light caress, making a pleased hum at Merrill's soft gasp, then kisses the elf's temple. "I've enjoyed meeting you as well. And... if all parties are amendable, I would very much like to met you again. Perhaps a.. twice date? No, double date, when Hawke and I return?"

Merrill tilts her head back to beam at Estelle. "That sounds really nice! You also have to met Seli and Papa," she demands.

Zevran takes a deep breath, then gives Hawke a 'it's fine, thank you' smile.

"When I get back, can you plan a dinner party?" she asks Merrill. "I figure that's the kind of entertaining I'm--" She pauses, catching her breath, then forges boldly onward as if the gap didn't happen. "supposed to be doing as a Light." _as Rosemary was always on about._

Zevran's eyes narrow- he'd caught that clearly. Aveline gives her a look as well, but doesn't comment or react otherwise. Thankfully Estelle and Claudia were distracted by Merrill rather excitedly jumping up and down while still hugging Estelle.

"That sounds nice," Claudia comments. "Also, does she have a sister? One that might be okay living underground maybe?"

Hawke laughs. "No, sadly. My Merrill is one of a kind."

"Well, probably," Merrill puts in, then shrugs at the looks. "Well, I don't know what happened to my parents so... I might have siblings maybe?"

"Sorry to hear that," Estelle says gently. "It must be painful to be without that bond."

"Actually... Hawke is the only one of us with living parents," Merrill comments. "Well, and Seli, but you haven't met her yet."

Zevran winces a little. He'll broach that with Merrill later... Catching Estelle's eye, he shakes his head a little.

"I don't know as you should feel too jealous of me," Hawke points out. "My sire abandoned me as a child and I had to hunt him down, my mother's dead, and my Papa I had to find myself to get a good parent out of the lot of them."

"Our parents are alive," Claudia offers. "Well... actually, I just realized I'm not sure- is..." She glances at Estelle who nods, looking surprised.

"Yes, of course, you've met both my mothers," Estelle says.

"Oh, it's just you mentioned once that Delania was Paerle and Wynnith's mother so I assumed she wasn't your mother as well," Claudia explains with a slightly self-conscious shrug.

"Ah. No, Delania isn't my mother, Beinthalla was. Delania carried me though," she adds.

"Wait, isn't Beinthalla your aunt?" Aveline says, started.

Estelle shrugs. "That's what she prefers to be called, yes. She's not very... material. Not very good at being an aunt either but... she has trouble trusting anyone but Mother and Grandmother after she was... hurt." She can't stop herself from glancing at Zevran for a second, but thankfully he doesn't catch it.

"Estelle has a preponderance of family," says Hawke with a sappy grin. "Family for days."

"Not _that many_. Three sisters, two aunts, my mother, my Grandmother. Three of those are married," Estelle objects. Claudia coughs softly, eyes flicking to Zevran. "Oh! Right. I also have two uncles, ummm, five brothers? And two nephews."

Zevran shifts a little uncomfortably, but Aveline and Merrill are just staring. "That's.. not a lot of family?" the paladin finally asks.

"That's a horrific amount of family!" protests Hawke.

"You are not sure how many brothers you have?" Zevran asks carefully.

"Ah, well... not entirely, no. Males aren't always raised by their mothers. It's not uncommon for them to be... gifted to male couples or groups to raise, as they can't have children of their own," Estelle says with a wince. "The mothers are expected to ensure the wellbeing of their son but don't really have a... direct influence on them at that point. I know I have at least three brothers, as my Aunt Grace's wife is human and didn't want to be parted with them."

"...wouldn't those be cousins, not brothers?" Aveline says slowly.

"Cousins?" Estelle asks curiously.

Hawke lights up at the chance to explain more cultural differences. "So, among humans, we use the term 'cousin' to refer to the child of a aunt or uncle. It's derived from the Kendish word, which refers to any kinfolk no matter how the relation, but in Common it's specifically the child of a brother or sister of your mother or father. Or, second cousins, which are the children of your parents' cousins."

"Interesting. We consider anyone related to the generation above you to be a sister. I mean, if they're female. Brothers are only brothers, normally, if raised by your mother or an aunt. Ummm, by your convention I have... what's it called if you only share one parent?" Estelle asks, already stuck.

"A half-sibling. Half-sister or half-brother," Zevran supplies.

"Okay. My mother Alaedha has a full sister, Beinthalla and a half-sister Grace, who is merikos. I have... one sister, Paerle," she makes a little face at the name, still very annoyed with her, "and two half sisters, V- ah, one merikos and then the youngest of us, Wynnith, who is pureblood. My five brothers are... actually cousins, I think. Three from Grace I'm sure of, all merikos, and I think Aunt Beinthallas has two sons but that's mostly just guesswork, she certainly didn't claim or raise them." Estelle nods, pleased with herself for working through all of that.

"That's still a disgusting amount of family," mutters Hawke. "By contrast, I had a full brother and a full sister, an uncle with no children, and my father is getting remarried so I'll have a stepmother soon and maybe half-siblings." _And none of them worth a damn._

"Your grandmother is nice," Merrill offers brightly. "She's been very helpful with my baking."

"You bake now?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Your grandmother is sending me recipes and advice," Merrill explains happily, causing Hawke to blink. _They write? Since when? Wait, when was the last time **I** wrote to her?_

"Your grandmother is still alive? Is she not part of your Clan as well?" Claudia asks curiously.

"Ah, no. So. There's two kinds of kin here: my blood kin, which is what I've been enumerating, and my Clan. None of my blood kin is part of my Clan."

Estelle looks rather taken aback. "I... you mentioned something like that before but... it just seems so very strange," she admits. "To not have your blood held close, to just... be adrift like that."

Her expression darkens. "They cast me out. More or less." She takes a deep breath, lets it steady her. "We should get going."

Impulsively, Estelle steps forward to kiss the Hawke-Tethras Clan Matriarch on the lips. Hard and deep. Aveline makes a face, rolling her eyes, but the rest of the room is rather, ah, masterfully distracted. Even Zevran finds himself enthralled by the sight, despite his reservations. Hawke melts into the kiss, grabbing at Estelle to pull her close, enthusiastically distracted from her earlier brooding. After a solid minute, Estelle finally pulls back to gulp in air. Panting, she smirks at Hawke. "Ready to come? Sorry, I meant, ready to go? Got mixed up there for a second," she draws lazily as she pulls back. At the table, Merrill is back in Zevran's lap, whose hands are below the table and... well. Claudia is flushed and shivering a little as she stares. Aveline is... at the sink, rinsing dishes. Are the tips of her ears red? Legs are pressed awful tight together too...

Hawke lets loose a small, mewling whine before shaking her head as if to cast off water. "Yes, let's."

"Right. Just be a moment," Aveline says, voice carefully stiff. Zevran waggles his eyebrows at Hawke, his mouth and hands busy. He's probably distracting Merrill so they can leave without her clinging to Hawke's leg. "You can... meet me outside," the paladin adds gruffly.

Claudia licks her lips and nods jerkily. "Right. Ummm. Cloak! Right. I'll... get your cloak," she mumbles.

"Something on your mind, Hawke?" Estelle asks innocently as her wife hurries off.

"No," she whimpers, before repeating it, firmer. "No. Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Hmmm. I'll just have to try harder then," Estelle says with a sigh. "Clearly you aren't interested yet... oh well, maybe a few days... weeks... more and you might be up for some fun."

Another whine; this time, instead of playing it off, she lunges forward, reaching her hand to the back of Estelle's head, to pull her down for a hungry, desperate kiss. They only get a few moments before a palmful of cold water catches them both in the head. Springing apart, they'd be able to see Claudia, cloak in one hand, leaning against the doorway into the kitchen as she rubs her breast. Zevran and Merrill are still going at it as well, so...

"Play when you get back, we need to be going," a rather flushed Aveline snaps sternly.

"Yess'm," she replies instantly, hanging her head. "Sorry."

Estelle steps back to fetch her cloak, her own breathing a bit heavy when she glances back in time to see Aveline pull Hawke in for a kiss of her own. A somewhat possessive one. Or perhaps a competitive one? The drow snickers a little, clearly more at ease with Aveline than she's been... ever, after seeing this.

\---

It's the following day, a few hours past sunset when Aveline feels the ring on her finger tighten slightly. If she doesn't answer in two more tugs, it'll start to chime, but today never gets the chance. "How was your day?" she asks, voice knowing. It was pretty clear what she, Estelle and Claudia were about to get up to the night before, and she fully expected Hawke to still be floating.

"Aveline." Far from elated, the voice that floats through the ring's magical connection is tight, restrained. Small. "Is Zevran around?"

"Hawke?" Aveline blurts out, bolting upright in her seat. "Yes, I'm in the backyard. Him alone or..?"

"Both," she manages. "But him. Please."

"Deep breaths," Aveline says firmly, moving quickly. "I'm going to try and get him without Merrill. Seli is here, so it shouldn't be too hard, just stay calm. Deep breaths, okay?"

"Okay," she whimpers, and Aveline can hear her deep breath -- and the small hitch in it.

In the next minute or two, Hawke can hear her lovers and Seli chatting. Aveline says something about needing Zevran's help for a moment, carefully casual in tone. Moments later, the magus hears a door close, then Zevran says, "why Aveline, how very forward of you! I knew that you'd eventually give into your primal lusts and-"

"Zevran," she whimpers, her head resting against her knees, her hand clinging to her leg, close by her mouth.

The merikos drow's words cut off instantly. There's a rustle of clothes, a surprised grunt from Aveline, then Zevran's voice, clearer and closer. "Hawke! What's wrong, speak to me, mon faucon bien-aime?"

"I'm here," she whimpers. "Please, talk to me, I need-- I need to--"

"I'm right here, my love, listen to my voice," he croons at her, hands fisting tightly at his side. Zevran's face is a twisted grimace of rage, his body tense to the point of pain, but his voice is gentle and loving.

"We're both here, amata. Just keep talking. Are you hurt?" Aveline isn't much better off than Zevran, though she controls it better.

"No," she whimpers. "not hurt. Not me. I--" She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Rosemary." she manages to whimper. "Was reminded."

"Are you sure? You're safe? Do you need us to come get you? Or even just send Isabela? Or..." Aveline hesitates, not sure she should mention Estelle. _Did she do this? Was she a part of whatever hurt Hawke?_

"I'm safe," she whimpers again. "coward, I'm a coward, I'm not a hero at all," she adds, rocking back and forth a little.

"Shhhh," Aveline says gently. "It's alright. Deep breaths, amata. Deep breaths. In and out."

"Hawke, it's okay. Just listen to our voices, okay? Listen to Aveline, take deep breaths," Zevran agrees in a soothing voice.

"Listening." She takes a deep breath, lets it out in a shudder.

"Rosemary is nowhere near you," Zevran says firmly. "She's long gone. You're safe for the moment. Deep breath, then tell us what happened." _Who we have to kill for you._

"I'm such a coward." She takes a deep breath. "It was play. It was just play. Nobody was in danger. I knew that, that's why I froze up. I wouldn't have frozen if they were really in danger."

"Of course you wouldn't have," Aveline agrees swiftly. "You never let your own pain stop you from helping others."

"Even when mayhap you should," Zevran mutters, then winces at Aveline's glare. "Go on."

"There was screaming," she whispers. "And so much blood"

"Blood?" Aveline says, startled.

"But you said it was a game? Someone was doing bloodplay? Painplay?" Zevran asks gently. "You're sure?"

 _"Bloodplay?_ " Aveline demands, clearly unfamiliar with the concept.

Zevran nods distractedly. "It's what it sounds like. Some people enjoy pain, giving, feeling, sharing it. Some also enjoy blood. One of my girls offers that service. Done properly, safely, there's not intrinsically wrong with it."

"It... it was in one of the play rooms. With... it had to have been a game. Wasn't it?" Her voice shrinks at the end, dissolving into a whimper.

"That seems very likely, if it was in a room set aside for play," Zevran agrees quickly. "Did... who was involved?"

"Ben-- Benni-- Estelle's aunt," she whimpers.

 _And also her mother, other mother,_ Aveline thinks, nose wrinkling. "Was she... was Estelle there?" the paladin asks, desperately hoping no.

"No. I was-- I was talking to some of the pleasure workers, I sent them on to give us privacy and told them I'd-- I'd meet them back at the rooms for..." She sniffles. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it was just... was just... but I can't... Estelle's going to be hurt I wasn't... I _want_ to like this stuff but..."

"Hawke, no," Zevran says firmly. "From what you're saying, the sort of thing you saw was... very extreme. Very... niche, very rare. Even among the BDSM group, that degree is extreme."

"Okay," she sniffles. "Okay."

"Take a few more deep breaths. Were you with Estelle last night?" Aveline asks uncomfortably.

"I was. It was-- it was great."

"And did she... do anything like this?" Aveline presses.

"No," she whimpers. "No. But I know she.... she enjoys rough play. Mostly, with me, she does the thing Maeve does. The, denial."

"She did seem to enjoy the flirting and refusing," Zevran notes. "But it certainly sounds like she's more into dominance games, rather than pain."

Aveline frowns slightly. "Hawke... just ask her," she says gently. "You've been incredibly open minded and accepting during this trip. Her being understanding and open about this is the least she could do."

"But I-- But I want her to _like_ me," she whimpers, pressing her head to her knees.

"Oh, you silly girl," Estelle says softly from the doorway to Hawke's borrowed bedroom. Seconds later, she feels arms go around her. "I do like you, a great deal," she whispers.

Zevran and Aveline exchange glances but don't comment, not yet.

"Estelle," Hawke mews, and breaks into fresh sobs on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay, it'll be okay," Estelle croons. "It's okay. Whatever happened, we can work it out. Honestly, Hawke, unless you murdered or raped one of my family, there's nothing you could do to make me hate you." A beat, then she tries to get a laugh. "Well, maybe Paerle, she's on my last damn nerve of late."

"I-- I saw," she whimpers, shaking her head. "Zevran?" she begs.

"Ze- why is-"

"She saw Beinthalla in the midsts of some-"

The time, Zevran is interrupted by Estelle. "Gods fuck in a circle," she swears. "Hawke, it's consensual, I swear. Naduac is a merikos troll, wounds that aren't fire or acid are pleasurable to her. It's entirely consensual, she likes it, she's agreed to it, I swear."

"I know," she whispers. "Not about-- trolls. But... Blood play, he said."

"Ah... yes, my Aunt..." Estelle winces, hugging Hawke a little tighter for a moment. "She was hurt very badly, her soul and mind more than her body in truth, when she was taken. She'd always been... inclined to more extreme games, but afterwards... my Mother and Nadauc are the only ones she's allowed to be with without guards to supervise. Even Grandmother won't bed her without Tenachka in the room."

Hawke lets out a whimper. "I was... I was raped," she murmurs, shuddering.

"What?" Estelle says, voice suddenly vicious and enraged, though her touch remains gentle. "My- I'll have her gelded, I swear, I can't-"

"No!" Zevran shouts. "Not now, before. Years ago!"

Estelle shudders, then sags against Hawke. "Oh."

She whimpers. "Sorry. Just-- trying to explain," she whimpers. "It, it reminded me. 's why I don't like surprises."

"No no, Hawke, shhh, it's okay, I'm just... feeling rather protective," Estelle says gently. "I care about you, Hawke, more than I can really fathom being possible for someone I met less than a month ago. It's okay. I'm not angry, I promise. Well, not at you- Nephew, the one that-"

"It's been handled," Zevran says, voice cold.

Hawke nestles into Estelle's arms, taking comfort in the warmth. _Zevran is good to talk to but having arms around me is so much better._

"Would you like to cuddle in bed while you talk with your Clan? Do you... need or want to talk more about...what you saw? Now or later?" Estelle says softly, hands gently caressing, though she's trying to keep it not sexual.

She gives a small nod, taking a moment before she starts to climb to her feet, letting Estelle help her into the bed so she can curl up against her. "I knew it was... was play," she says, after a moment. "But... it hurt, walking away. Letting it.. happen. Not trying to... I'm a hero, Estelle, I save people."

"Would it help to talk to Nadauc tomorrow?" Estelle asks as she pulls Hawke atop her. "So you can really know, in your bones, that she wanted what was happening?"

Aveline shifts a little. _To be honest, I'd certainly be happier if Hawke followed up on things. Not that I don't believe Estelle, just... just in case._

"Yes," Marian whimpers rapidly. "I would... if only for my own peace of mind."

"Okay," Estelle replies just as quickly. "Nadauc is... a bit... not stupid, but simple. She's very happy with her life. I'm sure she'll be fine with talking about her games with you, just... be upfront that you're just asking for, ah, academic reasons. Not that you want to play with her. She'll offer."

Hawke nods. "I'll tell her... something. I don't know. I'll figure it out."

"You could tell her you are asking for me- tell her I wish to know if drow styles are different than Nyran," Zevran suggests. "To be honest, I suspect my girl might well appreciate a report on that."

"You can change your, either way, at any time at all, but what do you want for tonight? I mean... nude, clothed, cuddles or sex or... whatever you want, okay?" Estelle says softly.

"Cuddles," she murmurs. "Contact is...soothing, to me. Sex, maybe, when I've calmed, but only maybe."

"Okay... would... would you like to... take the lead tonight? If we do anything at all, even if we just cuddle, you can set the pace?" Esstelle offers, a little hesitantly, though mostly due to the pair listening in.

"No," she whimpers, nuzzling Estelle's shoulder. "No. I like... trading off. Feeling treasured. Wanted." She sighs. "Sometime you should ask Zevran about after-- after. I was impossible."

"Another day for that perhaps. And... we could just... enjoy each other, if we wish to make love tonight. Otherwise, you're in control of how far, okay? Tonight is about pampering you." Estelle strokes a hand down Hawke's back.

"Do... do you want me to tell Merrill you're busy tonight, just checked in and had to run?" Aveline offers.

"Please," says Hawke. "And tell her I miss her and love her. I don't-- she'll be hurt, but she'll understand."

"It's alright Hawke. We were all expecting to go a month without you and we got to hold you, feel you, last night. A short call or a missed call isn't that bad," Zevran assures her.

"Be well, amata. Rest and take care of yourself. For us," Aveline adds.

"I will. I love you both, please take good care of yourselves," she says, pressing her lips to the ring.

Both of her lovers murmur farewells once more, then sever the connection. Estelle is quiet a moment, then kisses Hawke's temple. "Feeling better?" she asks carefully.

"A little," she says, in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

"I had much the same reaction when I first saw, first hand, my Aunt's... preferences. It still bothers me, even today," Estelle admits in a furtive whisper. "I know it makes me a bad daughter, but I can't muster the interest needed to... join her in that sort of play."

"It's not, it's not bad," she whispers. _Zevran said so._ "You can only play how you... how you play."

"True, I just... I just feel like I should be able to share this with her," Estelle murmurs. "She... she's hurt so badly, and it makes people shun her. No-one but Mother and her pet will sleep with her without so many restrictions and safeguards that it must feel so... belittling. Humiliating, to be so poorly trusted.."

Hawke whimpers, falls silent. _I should have tried harder, I should have talked with her, I should have forgiven her..._

"Hey, what's wrong?" Estelle asks worriedly as she quickly notices Hawke's withdrawal.

"I-- when she-- when my, my Rosemary, her family came to atone. They..." She takes a deep steadying breath. "You've seen catfolk?"

"...in Claudia's books?" Estelle offers. "Oh, wait, no, I was, ah, with one in Nyra. It was... okay."

She nods. "They're a heat race. Do you..."

"Ah, that I know about," Estelle agrees. "There's a band of kitsune merchants that comes through twice a year."

"She wanted-- she needed-- she asked me for help," she whispers. "After... after everything, her family came to... to make it right. They'd torn out her claws. They offered.... I let them take her womb, for me, to make it right."

"...and?" Estelle prompts, waiting for the rest of it. "What else?"

"What else," she mutters. "I ruined her life."

"No, _she_ ruined her life," Estelle corrects Hawke. "If one commits a sin, then they should expect to be punished for it. If you had let it go, then she would have no reason not to hurt another. There _must_ be justice for ill deeds, lest the world descend into barbary and mayhem."

"She needed help, and I failed her," whispers Hawke.

"It wasn't your responsibility to help her. You were the victim. Her clan- tribe, whatever- should have been the ones to help her. She wronged you, they failed her. You did nothing," Estelle says firmly. "And if that was all that was done, then you did more than most would expect. If she had... if she had done such here, she'd be dead. Probably, depends on how long ago this was."

"...year and some, ish?" mumbles Hawke.

"Then yes, she'd be dead by now. Unless it was me, in which case Grandmother would..." She winces. "She's mostly discarded her... old ethical code, so to speak, but for family, for me specifically... it would not be good."

"We were lovers. I-- I consented to helping her, and she couldn't... she wasn't in her right mind to understand my 'no' later."

"Bullshit. You never, ever go into a game without establishing the rules for it. As the one with the experience with the game in question- the heat- it was up to her to explain it well enough that you can make an informed choice on the matter," Estelle says, kissing Hawke's nose. "Particularly if one or more of the party's will have an altered mind state during the game."

"She bit me," she whispers. "A lot. That's why I can't-- I don't do biting, not anymore."

"Okay. No biting. That's fine. I like it, but mostly just for the gentle pain part of it. And I like marking my lovers, but there are so many other ways to do that. I'd love to show them to you, see which ones you might like," Estelle adds in a purr, trying to soothe Hawke in the ways she knows best: touch, sex and understanding. "Even if... gods, it would suck, but even if we couldn't ever even touch again, I'd still want you in my life. Okay?"

Hawke leans into Estelle's touch with a small nod. "Okay. I love you, Estelle."

"Umm."

"Sorry," she whispers. "I'm like that."

"No, no," Estelle says quickly. "I'm not- it's not a bad thing, I just... I'm not sure what to say because I... well, I just..."

"It's fine if you don't," she murmurs, eyes closing. "I just... it's hard for me to hold back. I don't... if I like someone enough to be around them for long enough, it's love."

"I might," Estelle offers. "I... not yet. I care for you a great deal but it's not... what I feel for Claudia. But it is nice to hear from you," she admits softly, almost bashfully.

"Oh good. I've been-- I'm always afraid to say it." she admits.

"I feel a little guilty I can't say it back but... it's nice. Warming and... comforting, to know someone as good and kind as you loves someone like me," Estelle whispers, kissing Hawke's cheekline a few times.

She blushes a little. "You're worth it. You're not... mad at me, for... not being okay."

"Why would I be mad at you?" Estelle asks, bewildered. She stops her kissing, rest her head back down so she can look at Hawke full on.

"It's... part of your culture. And, it's your aunt. I'm... I'm not Drow. I've been trying so hard not to freak out about anything, but then I did and it's..."

"...I was actually getting a little worried about that," Estelle admits. "I figured you were... holding things in. It's alright. I don't expect you to agree with every part of our lifestyle. I don't." A pause, then, "and that's not our culture, not really. It's... just her. And most of us are... bothered by it."

She nods. "Mostly it's fine. I really don't have a problem with sex, or rough play even, just... I worry sometimes, even in Nyra, about people with power coercing consent from people who don't have it."

Estelle nods. "I have to admit, it was almost nice, trying to find playmates in Nyra. Knowing I was winning them into my bed despite who I am, not because of it." She smirks a little. "You've probably noticed a fair bit of resentment from a few of the noble ladies? The glances and catty remarks? It's rare for me to... focus so much on one person like I have with you."

"I get that a lot," she admits, trying to sound worldly and wise.

Estelle rolls her eyes a little. "She's right you know. Your second wife."

"Aveline? About what?"

"That you're basically an avatar of Astea," Estelle teases her, swooping up for a quick brush of lips.

She flushes. "Am not. I-- Astea doesn't have to work at it like this."

"How would we know? Maybe she used to, but she's just... finished having to work now? Maybe she started out just like? Or... maybe you're the part of her that's still learning? It's said she does that- comes down to walk among us. Maybe she also puts a little of herself in her Chosen." Estelle wraps her arms around Hawke, pulling her full against herself.

"I should warn you, theology gets a little muddled around me." She sighs. "Later, I'll-- confess what my life is like. In case you don't want to be involved. For now, just... being like this, holding me, is enough."

"I like holding you," Estelle agrees, running her hands up and down Hawke's back. "And I would like to know more and more about you, but later is fine." Estelle frowns slightly for a moment. "Claudia will likely be by shortly, looking for us. Would you prefer...?" she leaves it blank at the end, not wanting to influence Hawke in any direction.

"She can join?" she asks, quietly. "I don't know that I'm going to be up for getting up for a bit."

"Claudia will be fine with things not... going that way," Estelle assures her. "Are you sure you won't mind her joining us? I- if it would crowd you or..."

"I'm sure," she says quietly. "I-- I was alone with Rosemary for a week. The more people around me, the less like that I feel."

"Ah. Well.. in that case, I could invite others if you like," Estelle offers, only half joking. "Aunt Grace and her wife are very nice. Or... maybe you'd like to met some of my brothers? Cousins, I mean? Well, actually you already met Montius yesterday- one of the comfort worker trainers? Hair to his feet, very soft, gentle voice and blue eyes?" Blue eyes are actually a pretty good identifier, as it's not a normal trait for drow, but the male in question is merikosi of course.

"Oh, yeah, he seemed nice." She shakes her head. "I'm fine, really."

Estelle frowns slightly. "Are you sure? Really sure? I... I want to be able to do something for you..." she finishes in a mutter. "It... you're hurting and I want to help."

"You _are_ helping. Being here, with me, grounding me into the present."

"Grounding? You mean..." Estelle rolls her hips a little, grinding herself against Hawke slightly.

Hawke chuckles. "No, but don't stop."

"Oh?" Estelle asks softly, eyes alight. "Are you truly sure? I do not want to pressure you." Despite her words, she can't help but suit deed to word on 'pressure.'

Hawke lets out a groan of pleasure. "I meant only that you keep my mind on the present day, rather than letting it... I sometimes regress, recall vividly things from the past."

"Well, I am no mind healer but.. " Estelle nuzzles at the side of Hawke's head. "I am told I'm good at distractions... we could... play. Or I'm not bad at massages? Or we could play a gam- ah, I mean, we could play a not sex game. I mean, I enjoy having sex with you, but that's not all I like about you."

"A massage would be lovely," Hawke admits.

Estelle removes her hands, letting Hawke go. "In the bath? Or do you wish to just strip and stay in bed?"

"Bath. I can... I can show you the scar, to steer clear of."

"Mmhmm." Estelle leans up to kiss Hawke gently again. "Please say something next time you're uncomfortable? Wait until we're alone if you want but... Don't bottle things up this badly, okay?"

"Okay," she murmurs, with a small nod.

Estelle gives a sigh, her eyes still soft. "I see why tales of heroes seem to fall into two categories- those with loved one and those that are martyrs," she murmurs. "Come on, Oh Echo of Astea, let's get you into some nice hot water so you can relax."


	7. Return to Raplin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke finishes her trip to the Enclave and swings through Raplin's Oak.

That night is spent... softly. Claudia does arrive after a hour or so, and, after a quick, word, arranges for them to have dinner in. They don't end up having sex that night, instead just relaxing and cuddling. The following day, Hawke does get her talk with Naduac, which goes very well. The merikos-troll is very, very satisfied with having a good home with plenty of food and comforts in exchange for having a very demanding lover. She admits that Bienthalla can be pushy but the most annoying parts are non-sexual: Naduac is a bit of a slob, and Bienthalla hates disorder. All in all, she seems content with things.

That worry assuaged, the rest of the day goes smoothly, as does the following, Hawke's last day at the Enclave. It's also the first time Hawke meets anyone of any real rank from the other three Familgias- the Moneillos and Tevaidas Famiglias sent members of their Famiglia Secondaria, a niece and a granddaughter (but only a second daughter) of their Matriarches respectively. Famiglia Robijin, however, sent not only their Matriarch's favored granddaughter but Claudia's mother and father, evidently a common occurrence. The merikos gnome isn't very close to them, their relation closer to what would be considered typical for an aunt and uncle by many, but they seem happy to have the chance to talk and catch up.

Hawke is less happy about the other visitors. The Tevaidas representative in particular is not nearly as... progressive as those of the Emerison Famiglia. At one point, the magus spots the drow, Guliana, back hand a male server hard enough to knock him over when he made a scraping noise while cutting her roasted mushroom for her. She got some uncomfortable looks and the server was whisked away, but no-one reprimanded her. Grace, who had been seated on the other side of Hawke had gently restrained the hero from acting, murmuring that the server would be taken care of, as well as having tomorrow off. All of the servants that have to deal with Guliana would have the day off, in fact, as thanks for putting up with her.

The rest of the dinner goes more smoothly, thankfully, and Hawke actually remembers to do some politicking while speaking with the Robijin gnome. She's not sure how much of an effect her efforts will yield, but she thinks she made a favorable impression, which can only help in later trade deals, right? Not like she can make any solid agreements, given she wasn't given any authority- or more importantly, numbers- to work with after all.

As dinner winds down, Hawke finds herself approached by Tenachka, who politely but openly extends an invitation to join the Matriarch and Estelle for after dinner drinks in her private quarters. After politely- but excitedly- making her farewells, Hawke follows after Tenachka, who leads her to a side passage before heading to fetch Estelle. Following the passage, Hawke finds herself in the hallway just outside the Matriarch's room, where she is shown in by a guard.

"I am pleased you accepted my invitation once again, Lady zi'Hawke," the Matriarch says softly from the sofa. There's a tray of wine glasses on the table in front of her, along with a selection of sliced fruit and various dips. Honey, caramel, some kind of red jam and two more she doesn't recognize- one a pale, almost chalky looking white and the other a faintly glowing purple goop. "You've enjoyed your stay with us, I hope?"

Marian takes one of the lighter wines, not wanting to get too intoxicated, and smiles. "How could I forgo a chance for your excellent company?" She asks, her tone only lightly flirtatious. "This has been a wonderful trip."

"Has it?" the Matriarch asks curiously. "I've noticed a few... troubling moments."

"Sure," she says with a shrug. "Your culture is different. I am of course going to prefer my own, and sometimes feel uncomfortable. But even my most staunchly anti-drow lover has to admit what you have here is productive, sustainable, and in line with Nyran values. We're looking forward to having you as a protectorate."

The Matriarch's lips purse at her word choice at the end. "Protectorate... not a very... pleasing word to my ears, nor my peers here," she admits. "It is... galling, to have to admit, even by implication, that we are unable to protect our Famiglias entirely by our own power."

"An ally, then." She says, firmly. "I have no doubt you can protect yourselves, not after meeting you."

"Truly? You've seen our fortifications, enjoyed our... diversions, but have you actually seen our strength? There are some among us that have suggested we should host a display of prowess tomorrow- a few spars of our warriors and mages and the like. My middle daughter has requested- thrice- to duel you herself," she adds idly.

"I am not a duelist, but I would be happy to witness such feats. But, from my perspective, anyone with such fortitude and drive as yourself cannot fail."

"So you would not be interested in seeing how you'd fare? Or showing us the same?" Feythal says, ignoring the flattery. "Not even my Granddaughter or her wife?"

"I suppose I may as well." She shrugs. "I am a magic user, however, and I would be hesitant to do damage to your arena."

"Many, if not most of us are the same, it's no trouble. Our arena is constructed of... I suppose it would be 'null-stone' in common. It mimics the innate magical resistance of our kind," she says with a slight smirk. Which is rather warranted, because that sort of thing would be damn near priceless in Nyra.

The Light gives a low whistle. "Now that's impressive."

"Hmmm," the Matriarch replies as she sips her wine. "Is it?" She's probing for something. Or maybe... testing?

"I certainly don't have an entire arena of nullstone at any of my homes," she laughs. "It might not impress Panis half so much."

_Panis? The... male Matriarch of her city? I had not realized she was so close to him... interesting._ "I would be very surprised to hear you do, given that the making of such is a secret held by only a handful of Matriarch's in each city, and revealing it to outsiders is strictly forbidden by the Brittle Bitch." That last is said with surprising spite and relish.

_I will definitely include that in my report._ "Is that so? Well, I look forward to seeing how well it works."

"So you are willing to have that... friendly spar with my Daughter then?" the Matriarch asks, wanting to be clear.

"I suppose," she laughs. "Since it means that much to you. But I should warn you, I do better with higher stakes than in a duel. Don't expect Hawke the Hero; I will just be plain old Sage zi'Hawke in the dueling ring."

The Matriarch's eyes gleam for a moment and she leans in. "Then perhaps we could raise the stakes a little. A wager on the outcome?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well..." Feythal considers Hawke a long moment. "I don't suppose you would be willing to wager a child?" she asks. Realizing as she speaks the lack of context for the magus, she adds, "mothering one, I mean."

"What." Her tone is flat, impertinent. Then she shakes her head, a polite -- if rueful -- smile on her face. "I am afraid I am unfamiliar with this custom."

The Matriarch smiles thinly, clearly more amused than offended by her initial reaction. "Drow lack the... familiarity with arranged marriages like our gnomish allies. The idea that a grown or even young drow would be more loyal to their new Famiglia, over their birth Famiglia is absurd to our reasoning. Our manner of creating binding ties is through motherings. You would beget a child with one my Granddaughters- Estelle would be fine- and thus our Famiglias would share blood. Legally, it would be the child of my Granddaughter and her wife, of course. Even in Paerle's case- when she marries, the wife would be made known as the mother. You would be allowed to visit, mind you. Even treat her as family, but not as your daughter."

"I will have to decline. It is... " She pauses, searching for words. "The idea that a child of my body would not be cared for be me, would be raised by someone else, is firmly against my own ethics. In my culture, an absentee parent has no honor. My in father abandoned me, so I particularly swore never to do such a thing to any child of my body."

Feythal studies her for a moment, her face darkening briefly when Hawke mentions her father's actions. "Only to be expected," she mutters scornfully. She finally nods slowly, then answers in a louder voice. "Understandable, if disappointing. Perhaps then... what is the human word... fostering? Would you be willing to taken in a child of my Famiglia for a time, to teach them what the world outside my caves is like, then return them without claim or loyalty owed you?"

She nods. "For a time. A few years at most. That wager is acceptable. As for the opposite wager, if I win..." She frowns a moment, thinking, then brightens. "I want a position created for a cultural ambassador from Nyra to be created. I am thinking a Bright of our choosing, available to answer questions about Nyra and our practices but not otherwise answerable to your religious structures."

The Matriarch purses her lips thoughtfully. "Provided we can select the deity of the Bright to be chosen... and that they are required to obey our _secular_ laws," she replies thoughtfully.

"Of course. They are to be a source of information, nothing more." She smiles.

"Then I believe we have a deal: should you prevail, Nyra shall be allowed to send a Bright of Ciren, Naugrix, Junon, Astea or Alydra to... learn and teach here for three years. With the possibility of that being extended, should it be agreed by both parties at that time. If you lose, then you will agree to foster a youth of my blood in your home for three years, to be protected, educated and nurtured by you and your Famiglia." She smirks then. "I think this is normally when we would... shake on it?"

Hawke offers a hand to shake. "Agreed."

Matriarch Feythal takes her hand, a faint smile forming. Her grip is firm, her skin cool to the touch. "Wonderful. A wager in which we each win, just a little, regardless of the outcome. Perhaps you would be interested in... renewing another agreement we've made recently? Shorter, alas, lest I be accused in fixing the spar."

Now she smirks. "If you're proposing what I suspect, of course."

"Same rules as before?" she asks politely.

"Mostly" she agrees. "In light of my upcoming match, let me request no blood play and only light pain play."

"Understandable," Feythal agrees easily. "Such is not for many regardless of their plans. Tenachka should be arriving with Estelle shortly. Are you amendable to me giving her a few lessons with you as our... material?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she says with a wicked grin. "Education is truly a priority for both our cultures. I am honored to partake."

"Partake in what?" Estelle asks as she slips into the room, clearly having only heard the last word. Spotting her Grandmother's expression, a pleased smile covers her face. "Really?" she asks brightly

"I still have a few tricks I can show you, Granddaughter," Feythal says with a soft chuckle. "And this one here is a very eager little plaything."

"I live to serve," she jokes

"Hardly- if that were true, you would not be interesting enough to play with," Feythal says bluntly, beckoning for her aide.

Estelle rolls her eyes-carefully aimed away from her Grandmother's view- and runs a hand down Hawke back. "Ready to play then, little bird? Any special rules?"

"We are to be gentle with our toy- it's going to put on a spar tomorrow before you leave with it and I wish to be entertained," the Matriarch says as Tenachka kneels and begins to undress the elder drow.

"Yes; we've negotiated the rules and were merely awaiting your presence," Hawke confirms.

"Then why are you still dressed, little hawk?" Estelle says softly as she trails her hand back up Hawke's back, nails lightly scraping her bare skin.

"What, and let you miss the show?"

"Cheeky little thing, isn't she?" Estelle comments to her Grandmother, voice chiding and disappointed but eyes gleaming with pleasure.

"Yes she is... Tenachka, fetch my white box: it seems this... little bird here is going to be troublesome," the Matriarch says serenely. "And we only have a short time to bring her to heel so best we get to it."

"Of course, mistress," the horned servant murmurs, eyes glowing faintly as she regards Hawke with poorly hidden avarice. _A second night... oh, the wonder and prestige this position grants me... and to think I was once furious with my binding. This shall be delightful!_

\---

The evening goes just about as Hawke expected (wanted), ending just an hour after midnight. She crashes, hard, for eight hours and wakes to Claudia going on about something. Oh, a bath. Oooh, a nice warm bath... Less than an hour later, Hawke is washed, dressed and swallowing the last bite of some kind of fruit stuffed bread roll.

"The, uh, festivities are going to start in... fifteen minutes. A bit less. You're ready-ready? You're sure?" Claudia frets.

"I'll wing it," she jokes, dusting her hands off on her pants. "It's always worked before."

Claudia stares at her a moment. "You're going to.... wing it. Against _Lady Bienthalla_?" she asks in disbelief.

"Sure. Why not? It's not as though I don't have years and years of practice and know my abilities inside and out," she teases gently. "At that point I'm not sure ten minutes more prep time is going to help me."

Claudia opens her mouth, then huffs. "Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense," she admits. "Last minute cramming never really helps, right?

"Exactly. Shall we?"

Claudia snorts, then rolls her eyes. "Alright, let's get you to the area then," she says, offering her arm. "Estelle is already there- Toren had a match of his own earlier."

Hawke takes Claudia's arm, with a nod. "Any advice?"

"...she likes to... play if she can," Claudia says softly as they walk. "She's very skilled at closing. Hard to pin down. And she's terrifyingly good at pin-pointing pain spots even in mid-combat. If you have any defensive magics, I'd very much recommend having them in place."

"Doable," she agrees.

Ten minutes or so later, the pair have arrived at the arena. The room is by far the biggest she's seen so far in the Enclave- almost sixty feet across and maybe eighty long. At the far end of the room, thirty feet from the door, the ground sinks downwards five feet. Amusingly, the walls and floor of the depressed area are a rosy pink and lurid orange swirled with white. Very glossy too. Probably the nullstone Matriarch Feythal mentioned.

There's a fair crowd gathered as well, about thirty or so drow and a couple of gnomes, all but five of them sitting in alcoves set into the walls a bit. The alcoves all have a partial wall of that nullstone, giving them all cover to protect them from any stray shots. The only ones not in an alcove are those in the Famiglia Primaria and their escorts that are attending: the Matriarch, Tenachka, Alaedha, Estelle and Bienthalla. Bienthalla and the Matriarch are reclining in padded stone chairs, Alaedha is making out with her sister from her lap and Tenachka is standing a touch behind the Matriarch with a thing sheet of that stone made into a tower shield.

Seeing the pair enter, Estelle had risen from her own chair and is heading towards them with a smile. "I was starting to worry we'd gone too far last night."

"Of course not," she laughs, releasing Claudia to move toward Estelle. "I enjoyed myself immensely."

Estelle steps up and pulls Hawke in a for a deep kiss, then steps aside to do the same to Claudia. "Thank you for looking after her again," the drow murmurs to her wife. "Grandmother really should be better at that but... anyway, I'm pleased to see you both."

"Are you ready to watch me kick some butt?" Hawke jokes.

Claudia blushes slightly at the thanks and nods. "Yeah, it should be.. interesting for sure," the merikos gnome replies. "

"Toren won his match," Estelle comments, then smirks. "Again." She glances at Hawke. "Going to continue my streak? I plan to wager on you, so you best do well."

"Yes, mistress," she smirks.

Estelle's eyes gleam and she tugs Hawke over to pull into another searing kiss. Pulling away, she whispers, "be careful with that sort of talk. You don't want to give the impression you're submitting to me." Kissing her again, she then steps back. "So... how confident are you feeling? The betting is likely to be... chaotic, given you're almost a total unknown."

"Against a total unknown? Maybe I should bet against myself, so I'll come away with some pride left," she teases.

"Don't you dare," Estelle says, smacking her lightly on her shoulder. "You're just as much as an unknown to us after all." She smirks again. "And I'm sure Claudia's been hinting this morning."

"Nope, not a clue, I have no idea what I'm up against," she says with a wink.

That gets an eye roll from the drow. "You're so bad," she says lightly. "So... I'll be betting a fair bit on you to win. And if you do... well, I'd be _ever_ so grateful," she adds in a soft, husky voice.

"I swear... I'm so glad our culture allows harems," Claudia mutters. "I'd die by the end of the first month, a smiling, loose-limbed corpse."

" _How_ grateful," purrs Hawke, moving to tuck some hair behind Estelle's ear.

Estelle leans in to whisper into Hawke's ear, lips just barely brushing her skin. "Gratefull enough to let you do to me the third thing I did to you last night. With the feathers, right after Tenachka worked her magic?"

_Her magic?_ "Well, with that kind of proposition on the table, how could I lose?" the hero asks with a wink, as she pulls back.

"By being stabbed in the eye. With a sword," Claudia mutters darkly, poking Hawke in the side.

"H-hey! What's--" she cuts off, realizing Varric can't _possibly_ have taught Claudia anything. "Why does everyone think I'm just, I don't know, a sword magnet?"

Claudia gives her a funny look. "...because you're about to fight a sword dancer?" she says slowly.

She shakes her head. "Alright, fine, you've got an excuse, but the other half a dozen people don't."

Estelle and Claudia exchange worried glances. "Hawke... sweetie... no-one else said anything," the drow says in a soft, worried tone. "Are you... sure you're okay to fight?"

She rolls her eyes. "Remind me to tell you later. There's a running joke about me being stabbed, is all."

"Oh," both ladies say in unison, then exchange amused glances. "Anyway, there's about five minutes before you have to head down... do you have any preparations you need to do first? As long as it's your own power, you can do whatever you like to prepare."

"I do, but only a moment or so before the fight. I was never any good at the longer-lasting preparations." She grins. _Probably no sense casting Blend, but Shock Shield, Displacement, Perfect Placement, and Fly should give me a nice solid edge._

The fight is... honestly a bit of a let down. Bienthalla had evidently not bothered to inquire about Hawke's combat style beyond 'magic user and pays the price for it. Biethalla is able to react faster to the starting call, closing the distance with a savage grin and eerie silence. Her first strike lands cleanly as well, her rapier sliding into the real Hawke's thigh a few inches. Thankfully, it only hits muscle, avoiding both bone and major blood vessels. The drow clearly assumes she's basically won, having managed to get within weapon's reach of a caster.

Her expression when Hawke hits her with a pair of solid staff blows to the cheek and gut respectively is priceless.

That's not to say she goes down without a fight, of course. She is damn good with that blade, managing to catch Hawke once more despite her protective magicks. It's the worse of the two strikes as well, catching her just under the ribcage and nearly go straight through. Hawke can practically hear both Varric and Zevran fussing- and being smug. Still, her Displacement spell proves its worth, causing at least one, possibly two other strikes to go off course. Knowing that drow are highly resistant to direct magic, Hawke sticks to her arcanically charged staff, eventually forcing the arbiter to call the match in her favor with a slightly stunned voice.

The room was quiet for the fight- evidently drow aren't much for cheering- and that quiet only deepens after the match ends. It's Claudia that breaks the silence with a whispered, 'holy shit.' Bienthalla looks confused more than anything else, just staring at Hawke as if uncertain as to what just happened or who she was fighting.

She grins at her, cricking her neck. "Oh, didn't I mention? We grow casters a little differently in Nyra." Gloating done, she offers a handshake: "Well fought."

"Well fought!" Estelle says loudly, quickly moving to the edge of the fighting area. "It appears you both need healing. Aunt Grace, if you-"

The merikos drow drops down from one of the alcoves, her expression slightly disproving. "Of course, Niece," she says with a sigh.

Bienthalla continues to stare at Hawke, her expression closed. She barely looks at Hawke's offered hand, finally grunting and turning away to met Grace half-way.

_You too, buddy,_ the elf grumbles silently, turning to smile at Estelle before she gives a nod to Grace. She decides to let Bienthalla go first, hanging back a moment. _Not that this doesn't hurt and all. Ugh, Papa's going to gloat so hard._

Grace finishes healing Bienthalla quickly, then offers her hand to Hawke. "Have I your permission?"

"Of course," she says, taking Grace's hand. "Thanks."

A few quick prayers and Hawke's wounds are wiped away. Seconds later, Bienthalla is right next to them both. "Again," she snaps.

"Absolutely not," Grace fires back. "I do not grant Valshathe's blessing to fuel your blood sports, _sister_."

"Poor sportsmanship ill suits you," says Hawke, with a sniff.

"Poor what?" Bienthalla demands. "You think you can call me your prissy elven insults in my own-"

"Daughter! That's enough. Shame me no more," the Matriarch says softly, nevertheless cutting through the other drow's increasingly raised voice.

Bienthalla sneers, then stalks off.

"Well, at least _I_ had fun," she says with a sigh. "It was a good match. Evenly suited." _Not that she cares. Stuck-up bitch._

"Crazed monster," Grace mutters under her breath in dwarven, clearly not expecting Hawke to catch it, must less understand. "Are you well?" she asks louder in common, the words clearly perfunctory as she's already turning to leave.

"Yeah, no worries," she says, rubbing the back of her head. "Thanks again, I really appreciate the heal." That said, she turns to head for Estelle and Claudia.

Grace gives Hawke a quick glance, then replies with a soft, "you're welcome..."

Estelle reaches down to help pull her from the pit. She gives her a quick kiss, then passes her over to Claudia to help her aunt out of the pit as well. Claudia debates a second, then leans up a few inches to snag a kiss of her own.

Marian kisses them both willingly, though she scolds Claudia with a fond 'brat' after. "How was I?"

"Good as always," Claudia says a touch breathlessly. Grace snorts lightly as she passes by, causing the younger merikos to flush.

"You certainly caught my Aunt by surprise," Estelle says happily. "And made me a tidy little sum," she adds smugly. "Paerle in particular will be most annoyed." Wow, that was... a rather savage tone there.

"Good." She smirks. "You'll be happy with the wager I made, I suspect."

"You made a wager as well?" Claudia asks, surprised. "When did you have a chance to do that?"

"Just a private one," she says airily. "With the Matriarch."

"I swear, the two of you are such brats," Estelle says with a huff as she eyes her wife and... dear friend. "Whatever am I to do about you?" Despite her words, she can't hide the smile that wants to form.

"What did you wager? I mean, if it's okay to ask?" Claudia asks in a low voice.

"Now that I've won, Nyra will be allowed to send a permanent ambassador -- a Bright, I'm thinking probably of Ciren, whose job is to answer questions about what Nyra is like without being pushy." She smiles. "If anyone wants to move to Nyra to do the reverse, I'd be glad to help them get settled."

"Really!" Claudia's eyes widen almost comically large. "That's... huh. I mean, a Bright of Ciren would probably be the best fight for an outsider but... wow. That's a lot of pressure on them. I mean..."

"It sounds like a marvelous, if complicated, idea," Estelle agrees.

"I was put a little on the spot," she says with a blush, rubbing the back of her head.

"On the... before I joined you last night?" Estelle asks, smiling still. "Well... I suppose you should go settle things up then."

"I should," she says, with a grin. "And then what say you and I have a little victory party?"

And a party they have- on the Siren's Echo, as they do have to get going after all. On the plus side, that means that Isabela can play, joining Hawke in switching back and forth as bottom. A day later, the ship lands a few hundred yards from Raplin's Oak. Deciding to not scare another decade of life from poor Jaina, Hawke heads into town by herself first to give her a head's up before introducing Estelle to Jassinth. It doesn't take long for her message to reach the elven druidess, who comes to met her at the bakery, which doubles as a cafe.

"Just you?" Jaina asks after the initial pleasantries are done with.

"I wouldn't do that to you twice," laughs Hawke. "I brought guests, but I figure it'd be better to bring you and Jassinth to them instead."

"Well, I certainly appreciate not walking in on my son naked _again_ ," she says dryly. Jaina scowls a little, though it's half-hearted at most. "You and your... Clan created a monster you know. I've caught him with over a half dozen ladies and half as many men since. And I know that's just the flower, the roots are much larger I'm sure. " She doesn't sound... angry, just a little perplexed and perhaps a touch frustrated.

"We didn't create him. We just... awakened him to his true potential." She pauses, frowning a little. "Is he likely to come to harm? I don't mind taking him back with me. I'm sure Zevran can create a work-study for him, get some grounding and education under his belt before he causes... problems." _An epidemic. Oh! I wonder if he's immune, like Estelle? Oh, but he could leave a string of babies in his wake just the same._

"Oh, he's being... safe. Granny Peli gave him an entire bag of seed wither root a few days after you lef," Jaina says with a sigh. "And a cake congrating him for having his first foursome."

"Son of a--" she mutters. _Kid won't beat me to a five-some, that's for sure._ "Good. Oh, apparently, he might be immune to disease -- drow are, it seems."

Jaina blinks twice. "What? That can't be right- he's gotten ill before."

"No, ah, _those_ diseases."

Jaina stares another moment, then flushes a little. "You mean... ah. Wait, he's likely... so that's just something his... parent had? They're just... immune to that?"

"Seems like. Lucky bitches, huh?"

Jaina purses her lips. "Well.. suppose it's nice he got something of use from-" the elf cuts herself off. "Let it go," she murmurs to herself.

Hawke flinches. "Yeah, about that -- I brought some friend here to visit Maeve. Ah, from Robijin Enclave."

Doesn't seem like that means anything to Jaina. "Oh?" she prompts Hawke.

"The, ah, surface drow enclave."

Jaina stares at Hawke, her face cold and expressionless. She sets her drink down and starts to rise.

"Okay, I don't like that look, talk to me, Jaina. It's not-- they're good people, I swear on my life. I didn't bring anyone dangerous here."

"They're _drow_ ," Jaina hisses as Hawke, slamming her hands down on the table. "Get out of my sight and stay away from my son."

"Your drow son?" she asks calmly, without rising.

Another smacking sound rings out in the small courtyard of the bakery as Jaina slaps Hawke across the face. Breathing ragged, the elf stands. "How dare you?"

"How dare I what? How dare I tell the truth? Your son isn't a monster, but he's drow, same as Zevran. Same as Estelle. I would never have brought her here if she wasn't a good person, Jaina. I would never put your son in that kind of danger. But I did bring her, and I won't lie to you about that."

Jaina is shaking her head, shaking and trembling over her entire body. "I- no. I can't do this- I- no," she finishes, voice more desperate than firm. She thrusts her hand into a belt pouch and tosses a few silver on the table, clearly intending to leave.

"I'm sorry," Hawke says quietly, her eyes brimming with compassion. "If you change your mind, I'm staying aboard the Siren's Echo. I'd be happy to meet you alone or introduce you to my guests, your choice."

Jaina shakes her head, even as her body shakes as well. Trembling, the woman flees the bakery. That... could have good better. Could have gone worse as well, to be fair, but... Hawke sighs, paying for her meal and leaving a generous tip before she trudges back to the Echo. _Damn, damn damn my stupid heart to each of the nine hells. I wouldn't have these problems if it only loved acceptable people._

"Thank you for trying," Estelle's voice says softly from some shadows nearby. Even knowing where to look, Hawke can barely notice her.

"You'd do better with a more polished speaker," she mutters. "But I did what I could."

Estelle hesitates a moment, then slips into sight in order to wrap her arms around Hawke. "You do more than most," she says softly. " _Thank you_."

_I wish it were enough_. "You're worth it," she whispers, nuzzling Estelle's shoulder.

"And you make me think it's worth continuing to try to reach outside our Enclave," Estelle counters as she rests her cheek on the sitting woman's temple. "How's your cheek?" she asks a moment later, voice a bit biting.

Hawke sighs. "Stop. It's fine. I just pushed her a bit hard."

"E chiamano i miei selvaggi," Estelle mutters under her breath. "You didn't deserve that. Don't _even_ try and claim you deserved that in any way," she demands of Hawke.

She flinches, glancing away as her skin chills a bit. _Don't ever say you deserve what I do._ "Right... Sure."

"Hawke? Hawke! Got word you-" Maeve's voice cuts off for a moment as she spots Estelle. "Uhhh.." She glances around, spotting the handful of people that have also noticed the drow in their midst. "Introduce me to your friend, Hawke?" she says, pitching her voice up a little to make sure people can hear.

"Gladly. Maeve, this is Estelle, my dear friend and guest. Estelle, this is Maeve, the woman I brought you here to meet."

Estelle had tensed at the first shout, shifting to put herself on Hawke's left, so her right hand is free to use her staff if need be. "...woman?" she whispers, eyes locked on Maeve. "What _is_ she?"

"Within earshot," Maeve replies evenly. "I'm an nymph, more or less. I'm one of Raplin's Daughters."

"She's _amazing_. I thought I knew everything about sex but then--!" She sighs wistfully. "You two have a lot in common," she adds, with a nod.

"...Hawke.... did you bring someone all the way- no. Starting over. Did you really wave a drow in Jaina's face just for a booty call?" Maeve asks, sounding a bit pissed.

Estelle stiffens. "Why should she have to stay away just because that _elf_ is-"

"Hey, that's not what I said," Maeve cuts in, taking a step forward and causing Estelle to tense at the massive female's proximity. "Hawke knows very well that Jaina has reason to be afraid of drow."

"If it was just that, I wouldn't have. But... Jassinth deserves a chance to know more about his heritage, the good parts of his heritage, just like Zevran does. And also, I'm technically still on a diplomatic mission on behalf of Nyra, instructed to show off our protectorates to our newest allies."

Maeve winces a little. "...you do have a point about Jassinth," Maeve says softly. "Jaina loves her son dearly but..."

"Who is- wait, is he... like Zevran?" Estelle asks quietly.

Hawke nods. "But I pretty much ruined all hope of that, so, I guess if he ever comes looking in Nyra I'll point him Estelle's direction."

Maeve frowns slightly, eyes thoughtful. "It looks like you didn't get to actually have any lunch," she says slowly. "Might if I join you? Both of you?"

"Will they even serve me?" Estelle asks softly.

"Simple enough- I'll order for both of us. They won't know which is going to me and I sure as _fuck_ know they won't do anything to _my_ food," the massive nymph says with a somewhat feral smile.

"Thank you. That would be splendid," the half-elf says, with a grateful smile.

Maeve shrugs. "I've been alive long enough to know that while most drow are evil little shits, every race has its oddballs," she explains. "And I've also been around long enough to be able to read people pretty damn well. If nothing else, I'd be willing to wager Estelle here cares about you a great deal. And that's not nothing."

Estelle had stiffened at first, but by the end of Maeve's reply, had not only lost that but also turned a deep crimson not even her dark coloring could hide entirely.

"To be fair, I've been to her enclave and met most of her relatives. They're nowhere near as bad as the stories elves tell about underground Drow. So there's that. But yes, Estelle is... more special than that, even." She smiles.

"Huh. You mean Robijin? Up in the foothills past the Addertail river?" Maeve asks, getting a startled look from Estelle. "What, you think we didn't notice?" the nymph asks with a laugh. "Weren't hurting anyone as far as we can tell and it's not our place to bother you anyway so..."

"Ah, well... yes. And shush you," Estelle adds in a mutter, giving Hawke a light shove as she takes a seat. "You can cease with the flattery, my bed is already open to you."

"Good. I will cease meaningless flattery at once." Hawke smirks. "Estelle is special, even among her own people: kind, considerate, and fun."

Maeve snickers as she sits on the ground near their table, her height putting her pretty much even with Hawke anyway. "So. Tell me about how the two of you met," she suggests.

"She came to Nyra on a diplomatic mission, and I was assigned to meet her and take her on this tour. Things progressed from there." She smirks.

"Things have a way of progressing that way with you, don't they?" Maeve asks with a laugh and playful leer.

Estelle sniffs. "Well, she's just so _earnest_ and woebegone, I couldn't make myself turn her down," she says with a sigh. "Be like... kicking a dog." She pauses, frowning. "That saying doesn't make any sense. I've seen dogs now, if you kicked one, it would rip your foot off."

"There are small dogs," Hawke says with a frown. "Wait, what dogs did you see? My dog is a Mabari, not a real dog."

"Mahbari?" Estelle asks curiously.

"Dogs come in a lot of shapes, far more than most races. The accepted theory is that the deity that created them had the idea of 'companion to all' in mind, so they allow some mutability in the wolf base stock, allowing each race to create their own perfect match. Not all races have done so though. Most, but not all. Mabari are the human version. Very big, very intelligent and almost supernaturally devoted and loyal," Maeve explains.

Hawke frowns. "That's theologically accurate, I suppose, but there's a lot of types of humans, and they made a lot of types of dogs. Mabari are... special, to the point where most humans don't consider them dogs at all. Mabari are far, far more intelligent and large than even wolves. When people talk about kicking puppies, they're usually thinking of ratting dogs or bow dogs: that is to say, dogs that go after small rats and gophers, about yea big," she gestures with her hands, "like terriers, or dogs that retrieve game you've shot, maybe yea big to yea big," she gestures again, "like spaniels and retrievers."

Maeve shrugs. "The explanation for that is the each of those breeds are actually paired to various merikos breeds," the nymph says with a shrug. "Yet another way that Snowflake made things messy."

"Do drow have a dog?" Estelle asks curiously. "I mean, I've not heard of one but..." Maeve shakes her head with a shrug, signaling she's not heard of such.

Hawke laughs, raising her eyebrows. "What? Snowflake? Also, what dog is the half-elf dog?"

Maeve blushes a little. "Oh, ah, I shouldn't have..." she says flustered. "Umm, I'm not sure. A hunting dog, somethin about laboratories?" she says quickly.

"Uh-huh, what was this about Snowflakes?" Estelle presses, sensing something interesting.

"Err... oh, those are, uh, the name for frozen rain that's white and-"

"I know what snow is, and it has nothing to do with dogs so what were you talking about?"

"From context, it sounds like Snowflake is a god?" suggests Hawke, frowning. _Not any of the main Seventeen, unless she's being very derogatory toward Ere'lyn. Racial gods are usually lesser gods, though, and I surely don't know all of **them** by heart._

"Noooooo," Maeve says, clearly lying. "Snowflakes are... fuck." She sags a little. "Really need to watch my mouth around you," she grumbles glaring at Hawke. "Stupid charming hero aura bullshit."

"...what?"

Maeve waves that off. "Just... don't spread this around, alright? It's not really... appropriate." She looks at Hawke, then Estelle with a firm glare.

"Can you at least tell me which god you're calling nasty names?" Hawke asks, a teasing glint in her eye.

Maeve winces a little. "Not... actually, no but yes? Just promise not to spread this around?" Estelle considers it but finally nods after Hawke does. "Snowflake is... well, let me ask you this: what's the name of the elven god?"

"Alamulian," Estelle supplies with a grimace before Hawke can reply.

"Oh, sorry, right, I... kind of forgot that might be..." Estelle waves it off, gesturing for Maeve to continue. "Alright.. how about the human racial deity? What's their name?"

"Uh...." Hawke says, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm not that good with theology."

"Even your Papa or priest couldn't answer that one," Maeve explains. "No-one knows the answer, at least no mortal. Evidently, their whole 'merikos' feature was... not well received by the other deities, who didn't appreciate someone mucking up their system. Not entirely sure where the nickname came about but... Special Snowflake, because they had to be different and break the system."

Hawke laughs. "Well! They must like me, then. I'm special myself."

"Yes you are," Estelle murmurs, her eyes soft and warm as she looks at Hawke. Across the table, Maeve arches an eyebrow at the clear sentimentality shown.

Hawke blushes. "So... about that sex."

Estelle's smile goes a little wicked. "I've not yet eaten and you wish for me to exert myself?" She clucks her tongue. "Such a wicked, selfish little hawk I have... I'm not sure such _deserves_ to be... pet."

Maeve's eyebrows go way up and she glances at Hawke. Hawke's blush deepens. "What, as if you hadn't noticed how very wicked I am?" she teases.

Estelle reaches over to give Hawke's face a soft caress. "Oh my little hawk, I assure you I've noticed exactly how wicked you are," she murmurs. "In detail... repeatedly... exquisitely."

"...okay, this is new... you weren't even familiar with denial play when you were here last," Maeve notes, voice a little husky.

"Well," she breathes, staring up at Estelle with a sappy grin on her face. "I, uh... I learned," she mumbles to Maeve, eyes downcast.

"Hey, not complaining... but maybe we can order something to go?" Maeve suggests, a not minor amount of eagerness in her voice.

"Yes, let's. Please." she whimpers.

"Then... I guess the only question, before we order, is... your tree or mine?

Estelle stares, then gives a flat "what?"

"Ah, Maeve lives in a tree," she mumbles, swallowing. "Estelle? Do you want to visit the Oak? Or take her back to the Echo?"

"Claudia and Isabela on are the Siren," Estelle says, giving the massive tree -- the physical form of the deity Raplin -- a wary look.

Maeve shrugs a little, not surprised by the response. "Sure... more friends of yours Hawke?"

"Estelle's wife and my lover," she admits.

"Wife? Open marriage?" Maeve asks out of habit of wanting to be clear on these things.

"Yes... recently more open than previous in fact," Estelle says, then winces. "But... Claudia doesn't... she'll just be watching, no contact with her is permitted." _Many people have trouble gauging gnome's ages, much less merikos gnomes, much less even more an immortal race doing the judging. Easier to just avoid the entire 'technically underage' issue._

"Underaged," admits Hawke to Maeve. "And damn curious. She'll be a handful if you don't keep an eye out."

"...underage?" Maeve says, giving Estelle a hard look.

"It's an arranged, political marriage," Estelle says with a huff. "We've... worked things out, mind you, we do love each other, but she has to wait two more years before we can... do more than show and watch. And kissing."

"So she's... two years short of majority? That's fine," Maeve says with a wave.

"She's merikosi," Estelle admits, as two years means a great deal more than if Claudia were a drow. Maeve, however, doesn't seem to realize why that matters, giving Hawke a puzzled glance.

"Merikosi change a lot more in a year than purebloods do," she points out. "Look at how rapidly Jassinth grows and becomes a man, as opposed to how slowly Jaina does."

Maeve considers that a moment, then nods. "I suppose so... forty doesn't seem that many more than twenty to me but I guess it is double," she allows.

"Exactly! And look at how much I've changed in the brief time since our last visit. Merikosi just change faster than elves or drow do."

"Huh. Well... if it's fine by you, I trust your judgments of the matter more than my own. I'm... pretty bad with ages and such, given my own nature," Maeve says with a shrug.

Estelle simply nods, though she's rather curious about that last part.

Hawke nods. "Oh yeah, you're probably what, five hundred? Six?"

"This body? Nine hundred or so?" Maeve shrugs. "Something like that, I don't really keep track that closely."

"Ummm.... this body?" Estelle repeats slowly.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Demigod so... this is more a shell than anything else. I've been discorporated twice. Painful but... Father grew me anew and here I am," Maeve says cheerfully.

"Wait, you're literally a demigod? I mean, I know your father's literally a god, but-- I really don't know how all this works." Hawke blushes.

"I am also rather interested in your... status," Estelle says, suddenly wary.

Maeve blinks at the sudden focus. "I... told you Raplin was my actual Father last visit, didn't I? What did you think that meant?"

"Well yes, but I've met Aasimar before. Some of them come from gods, and they're mortal. I didn't realize you're also a demigod in your own right."

"Eh, demigod is... more honorary than anything else. I mean, it's not really a condition, it's... a status. A rank, I guess. I'm technically an outsider- a tulwath specifically- not a fae. This body is a fae, mostly, with some plant in it, but that's just a shell, it's not really me," Maeve tries to explain. "I mean, I'm.... pretty well up there, for a tulwath, power and... prestige I guess? both but..."

"Then you're also the first and only non-native outsider I've fucked," she admits.

"That you know of," Maeve says, glad Hawke isn't freaking out anymore. "I mean, you didn't realize I was an outsider after all. Pavitra and sceleratis can look a lot like aasimar and tieflings after all. And tulwath can be even worse to spot."

"Well, yes, that's true, but unless something very strange is going on, Nox and Lux are definitely tiefling and aasimar, not pavitra and sceleratis. And I don't often make a habit of fucking people whose heritage I don't know," she says, before blushing as she realizes it's a blatant lie.

"Hawke, you'd had your tongue in my cunt repeatedly before you found out my mother is also my aunt," Estelle points out with a smirk. "And how long were you sleeping with Zevran before finding out who his mother- and thus aunt- is?"

"Wait... isn't the aunt-mother thing one of those things mortals shouldn't do..?" Maeve asks with confusion.

"Usually," she croaks, her throat tight. "Alright, alright, it was dumb, I apologize. I know almost nothing about people when I fuck them. But I try to know a little, at least. Enough to know they're not de-- sceleratii."

Estelle looks worried for a second, them smirks. "Maybe you should place that order and I'll find a shady nook to get our little hawk... settled for a bit? And then onto the ship?"

Maeve chuckles softly, eyes intense and fixated on the magus. "I don't actually need to eat so..."

"Suits me... shall we, little hawk?" Estelle asks, leaning in so her bosom rubs against Hawke's arm slightly.

"Yesplease," she blurts.

\---

Six hours later, there's a knock on Hawke's cabin door. Given that Hawke is, very literally, tied up at the moment, and Isabela's ears are... covered, it's Maeve that answers the door. Naked, of course, because of course she is. Hawke has her back to the door- not that it would help to be facing it, as she's making out with Estelle- but she can hear some conversation going on. After a moment, she feels fingers trail up her back, then, "if I can interrupt you two ladies a moment?"

Hawke pull back, tilting her head a bit. "Hmm?"

"Jassinth is at the door- evidently word got around you're here with a friendly drow. And that I seem to approve of her," Maeve adds with a smirk, winking at the drow slowly leaving a trail of hickies across Hawke's neck. "He started to say something about having questions but got distracted before finishing his first sentence. He's down to vowel noises at the moment for some strange reason."

"Oh good," she drawls, lazily. "We could use another sub." She frowns, then, something about that sounding wrong. "I mean. What?"

"You _are_ getting a little glassy eyed," Estelle observes, pulling back to look at Hawke carefully. Her breath hitches as Isabela continues her efforts.

"Why don't I invite him in and you... finish this last lap, then we can all talk," Maeve suggests with a grin.

"Yess'm," the hero purrs, leaning toward Estelle once more.

A few minutes later, Hawke is gently laid down on the bed next to the sheet covered Claudia. The younger woman had passed out an hour ago and Estelle had tenderly put her to bed. The drow now does much the same for Hawke, using a bit of magic to clean the bulk of the results of their play from the merikos elf's body and covering her with a light sheet.

Jassinth is sitting on a chair, trying not to look at anything but the ceiling. Or hear Isabela and Maeve... continue. "So... you seem... well, Lady Hawke," he says rather awkwardly.

"Yeah," she says, dreamily. "I mean-- yes. I uh. I gather your mother passed along my message?"

Estelle chuckles softly and shifts so Hawke's head is resting in her bare lap. She doesn't say anything yet however, just gently combs her hair with her fingers, the gesture slow and soothing, as she studies Jassinth intently.

"Umm, no," the male says, clearly trying to look just at Hawke's face and not at either of their tits. "She, uh, titti- didn't mention anything. I, uh, heard it from a... friend in town. I just- you're a drow!" he finishes with a blurt.

"Actually, I'm a drow," Estelle says lazily. "Hawke's a merikos elf."

Hawke chuckles. "A good drow," she comments. "Great drow. I mean. Estelle's great." She shakes her head a little. "Still addled. Sorry. Jassinth, this is Estelle, and vice versa."

I can see that," Jassinth says, eyes drifting for a good ten seconds before he yanks them back with a blush.

Estelle laughs softly. "If I didn't want you to see them, I'd either put on clothing or order you to turn around," she assures him gently. _Or have you flogged but that always seemed... unpalatable._

"What? You, uh, you mean you'd..." he says, dumbfounded.

Estelle shrugs, his eyes following the movement on cue. "Hawke approves of you and we could use another bottom. But I doubt that's why you're here? Or at least, not your original reason," she finishes with a smirk.

Jassinth blushes again, then nods. "Right, I came-"

"Already? Tsk tsk."

"Bad girl," teases Hawke.

Estelle pouts. "Bad girl? I think you mean wicked woman, thank you," she purrs down at Hawke, one of her hands ghosting its way down Hawke's cheek, neck and then up the swell of her breast to flick the nub at the peak

"Oh sweet Ciren," Jassinth says with deep reverence.

"Nuh-uh. Too much like Zevran," she mumbles, in a low groan.

"He _is_ my nephew," Estelle points out, amused.

"What?" Jassinth blurts out, caught off guard by the response.

"Her lover Zevran is my nephew," Estelle reports.

That gets a frown. "Then why... why didn't you raise him?" he asks sharply.

"She woulda. If anyone told her." she mumbles. Louder, she adds, "He knows Zevran. Fucked him, too."

"Oh. I... guess that makes sense," he says a bit reluctantly.

"I... I gather you don't know your birth parents?" Estelle asks gently. "Do... how old are you? Where did... I mean, if I can ask, may I know how you came to... be here?"

Jassinth frowns again, but his voice is carefully eager. "I'm twenty. Just a few months ago in fact. And... my mother always told me that she found me, abandoned, near her camp while she was out hunting. I was only a few months old, still milk-bound."

Estelle winces a little, muttering something under her breath. _What kind of bizarre magic does Hawke have?_ she thinks to herself almost angrily, though she knows in truth none of it is for Hawke.

"Estelle can probably find out," she mumbles. "Wanted her to meet you."

Estelle sighs a little. "Look at his eyes," she murmurs to Hawke. "You saw them just yesterday."

"He looks so much like my Zevran," she murmurs, with a contented sigh. "That's the very first thing I ever noticed about him."

"His _eyes_ ," Estelle repeats, ignoring the increasingly annoyed look the male is giving her at their whispering.

She frowns, turning her attention back to-- Oh! Her eyes widen, and she sits bolt upright. "No," she breathes, scandalized. "I see it now, but-- you're certain? There's no, I don't know, distant male cousin that looks suspiciously similar?"

"I mean... maybe but males are almost never sent out alone. And if they leave, alone or not, they're enspelled to prevent... scattering seeds," Estelle says softly, though loud enough for Jassinith to hear. "She was... away at the right time and... when she returned, she stayed in absolute seclusion for almost five years. More than enough time for..."

"You know who my- who gave birth to-" Jassinth begs, then flinches at Estelle's own wince.

"I'm so sorry," she says to Jassinth. "She's.... well, on the bright side, you have an aunt in Estelle."

"Cousin... slash sister," Estelle corrects Hawke. "Your... okay, whom I'm fairly but in truth not _entirely_ sure who is your mother-"

"Birth mother," Jassinth snaps. "My _mother_ is Jaina."

Estelle pauses, then nods. "I'm sorry, you're entirely correct. Your _birth_ mother is probably Bienthalla, my aunt and birth mother."

Jassinth shakes his head, trying to follow along. "Wait, what?"

"Drow marriage is always female to female, males don't marry, at least not officially. My... official mothers are Alaedha and her wife, Delania. In truth, Alaedha conceived me with her sister, Bienthalla. This is widely known, but not really... spoken much about, as it's considered rude to point it out." She shrugs. "That sort of thing is not entirely rare, drow don't have any taboos with incest. Or... really much if any taboos in regards to sex, besides that of preying on the young."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short," she protests. "Everyone's been very accommodating of my safeword policies and hard limits, and your enclave is particularly concerned with consent."

"Oh, well, yes, I just didn't really think of that as _taboo_ , that's _law_ ," Estelle explains.

"So... you're my..."

"Cousin, if you prefer. That's what most would consider us." _Well, in truth, most wouldn't consider you either, as you're male but... that might not be... What are you doing to me, Hawke?_

"My... cousin. I... have a cousin."

"Two," Hawke chirps. "Zevran is Estelle's nephew, it turns out."

"Which makes him my... nephew as well?" he asks hesitantly, then blinks. "Zevran is my nephew. I fucked my nephew. _I fucked my nephew_."

Estelle blinks a few times. "Yes? Or, well, second cousin, I think is more apt, but-"

"I've been staring at my cousin's tits and fant-" Jasssinth cuts off, looking slightly ill and very unsettled.

Hawke winces. "If it helps, drow are totally fine with that? And so am I, so, there's that."

Jassinth gives her a dubious look, clearly not buying that reponse.

"Why?" Estelle asks bluntly. At the male's blank look, she asks again. "Why is that a bad thing?"

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens. "It... is? I mean, it just... is?"

Estelle gives him a clearly unimpressed look, then shifts, leaning forward so her breasts hang down to either side of Hawke's head. "But why? You found me attractive before you knew. You clearly still find me attractive, given your gaze. What harm would it really do?"

"Well... it's known that that sort of thing causes more defects in the flesh, for children," he offers after a moment. "Proving that the gods disapprove of such things."

Estelle scoffs. "For one, you presume much, to think I would allow you to beget a child upon me. For another, that proves no such thing. There could be many reasons for such defects to occur, and I would contest that such a thing has not been studied very well regardless."

"Everyone has their traditions," says Hawke, firmly. "For many races, being raised together makes a.. well, as they say, familiarity breeds contempt."

"We would not disagree with that, we just think fucking breeds harmony," Estelle says with a smirk.

Jassinth snorts out a laugh, then stiffens a little as Maeve sinks to the ground next to the bed with Isabela cradled in her arms. "Relax," the demigoddess says gently. "I can't speak for all, but I know Father doesn't care what mortals breed with which. Besides, she does have great tits."

Estelle preens, chest arching out just a little more.

Hawke reaches a hand out to cup Jassinth's cheek. "I meant to be more... awake when I dropped all this on you. Are you doing alright?"

"I..." He takes a deep breath. "I suppose it is... nice to know. Even if it seems that my... birth mother is... not..." Jassinth glances at Estelle hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Jassinth," she says gently. "Bienthalla is... damaged. She was taken, while out on patrol, by a band of orcs and gnolls. They... were unkind to her. She was rescued but... never the same. My Aunt, she still loves her Famiglia- her family- still protects our people, but all of her edges are jagged now."

"She's a capable warrior," says Hawke, worried Jassinth will hear only negatives. "Almost beat me in a pit fight."

Jassinith bows his head a little, clearly trying to process this. "...thank you," he says gently. "Can... can you tell me more? About... her and the rest of my..."

"Family. Not your only family," Estelle says quickly. "Jaina is your mother, that's perfectly understandable. Laudable even. She raised you, protected and taught you. That you love her, feel loyalty for her... that is very much to your credit."

"And his stepfather, too. Good man. Very smart," she points out. "But there's room in a man's life enough for blood family and chosen family both."

"Ah, I didn't realize she was... married." _Step-father? How very strange. I know outsiders marry men, but to know someone that is directly related to such a thing is...strange, far stranger than just reading or hearing about it._ "But yes, family is a good thing, blood or otherwise. And it's very clear your mother Jaina loves you very much, given that she raised you despite hating drow so vehemently."

Hawke stifles a groan. _Not helping, Estelle._ "His blood family, though?" she reminds her.

Jassinth gives Hawke a grateful look. "Oh. Umm, okay. So... this can get complicated, there's... rather a lot of us," Estelle comments, then pauses. She glances around, then wiggles closer to Claudia, taking Hawke with her. "Come and cuddle," she offers.

Jassinth coughs a little. "Ah... what... that is, you're..."

"Sorry, this is Claudia, Estelle's wife," says Hawke, smiling faintly. _Don't make this weird. It's not weird, see how not weird it is? We're all cool with it._

"Okay? So... she's like... you? With the..." he gestures vaguely at... well, the room.

"Yeah," says Hawke, with a shrug. "Turns out, Drow are pretty free about sex. Which is why I brought her to meet Maeve."

Jassinth laughs weakly, his eyes drifting to Maeve and Isabela cuddling on the floor near the bed. "Umm, yes. That... is also happening," he mutters. "I am so very complicated. I mean... conflicted? I don't even know..."

"Well.. what are you feeling?" Estelle asks gently. "I completely understand you being... unsettled, so I won't take anything you say or do today as being... your final choice or the like. Just... let it come out."

"It's safe, here. We're here to help you," adds Hawke.

"It's really hard to focus right now," the male mumbles, eyes flicking about... everywhere.

"Would you be able to think better if we had sex first?" Estelle offers earnestly, causing Maeve to burst into laughter and Jassinth to gape. Estelle rolls her eyes. "I meant what I said earlier," she mutters.

"Especially if you like subbing. They're both wonderful dommes," adds Hawke.

"I just like sex," he says automatically, then flushes. He shifts a little, but after no-one seems offended, he rubs the back of his head. "That... I mean... that sounds... good?"

"Wonderful." Estelle beams at her cousin. "I firmly believe that sex is the best means of becoming close to someone. What kinds of things are on your lists?"

"...lists?"

"Your never, maybe and yes please lists?"

"Like with me and biting," Hawke reminds him gently.

Jassinth stares blankly, having never really put much thought into it. After a moment, Estelle offers, "okay, we'll go first. I don't sub. I don't mind having a partner in a game- a bout of sex," she reaches down to stroke Maeve's shoulder, who smirks up at the drow in reply. "But I get... annoyed if people try to give me orders during a game. I don't like being penetrated by others- if I'm in the mood for you to put your cock inside me, I'll initiate it. I don't like any kind of scat play." Jassinith mouths 'scat play' with a stunned expression. "If you pull out or cut or even stain my hair, I will gut you. As part of the 'never sub' thing, I don't allow any mind affecting effects or drugs in my games, I don't like being tied up and my ears are rather sensitive so be gentle with them. Hawke?"

"I don't bite and I don't let people bite me. I use a safeword -- if I call out 'sunstone', that means we stop. If the air goes cold, we stop, that's just a safety issue. I don't do mind control, drugs, or heavy drinking with my sex. I uh-- which one's scat play again?"

"Body wastes," Estelle supplies. "And... where do you draw the line for mind magicks?" she asks curiously.

"Oh, right, definitely not interested in that one. I like to be clear-headed in general. Stops me doing or saying things I'd regret. Why?"

"You really should be firmer with your rules, Hawke," Estelle chides her. "I know she can be... intense. And commanding, but you shouldn't let her push your boundaries. Unless you didn't have that rule until after?"

"She didn't before- I mean, she never commented on my aura," Maeve comments.

"It's more of a guideline, though I knew what Maeve's aura felt like before I went into sex. But, I get the feeling you're not talking about Maeve?" She frowns a little.

"You were charmed," Estelle says slowly. "Tenechka does it pretty much every time, unless you command her not to. It... smooths things, makes toys and pets more pliable. I don't care for it, I think the spark, but..."

Oh -- so that's what Hawke meant about the air going cold. "I see."

"Hawke- I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you didn't- I promise, if I ever see that, I'll dispel you and let you know," Estelle whispers, stilling her hands as they run though Hawke's hair.

"Who- what's wrong?" Jassinth asks warily.

"Tenechka, Grandmother's companion, can innately cast Charm Person with just a smile, literally. When we played a couple of days ago, she used it on Hawke. I- I assumed she'd okayed it," Estelle explains, voice gentle. "Hawke... are you okay?"

"Yes, fine," she says, tightly. "I'm going to take a walk, get some air." She moves toward the door before recalling her nudity; she pauses at the closet, tugging a simple dress over her head, forgoing the leggings.

"Do you want company?" Maeve asks, sitting up.

"No," she says, a single, curt syllable.

"Alright... just... please talk to me. Or Isabela. Someone, afterwards, okay?" Estelle asks sadly. "Or maybe you could take a bath with Claudia? You could maybe both use a nice hot soak."

_Talk to us. We're your Clan. Let us help._ She takes a steadying breath, then nods. "Yeah. A bath seems good."

Estelle nods quickly, leaning over to gently shake Claudia awake. A moment later, the merikos gnome is on her feet and shuffling towards Hawke with a cute yawn. "Hey," she mumbles with a sleepy smile at Hawke.

"Take a bath with me?" she asks, her voice far too cold, but her smile warmer.

Claudia blinks a few times, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. "Yeah... its freezing in here, are we high up again or something?" she asks as she takes Hawke's arm to lean on her a little.

Jassinth starts to say something but stops at Estelle's look. Hawke doesn't say much as they head for the tub; the coolness in the air seems to come with them, the hallway warm as they enter it but cooling rapidly. She undresses without so much as a flirty comment, showing that she hadn't bothered about underthings when she'd pulled on the dress.

By this point, Claudia is awake enough to realize that Hawke is really off. "...so... do... do you want to talk? Or just soak? Back rub?" she offers tentatively.

Hawke sighs, climbing into the tub and closing her eyes. For a moment she simply rests, letting the warm water soothe and warm her a little. Then she lets out a long, low exhale. Her hand trails to her thigh -- to Claudia's disappointment, it rests on the scar there, tracing it idly. "Did I tell you about this one?" she asks, by way of a beginning.

Claudia frowns, thinking, then shakes her head. "No. I kind of assuming it was some undead or something of that sort... or maybe a game that got too rough when you didn't have access to healing."

"I had a lover, once, a catfolk named Rosemary," she says quietly. "I agreed to help her through her heat. She... she raped me, over and over again, throughout that week. That's the one bite of hers I never could heal, the reminder of my torment."

"W-what?" Claudia says, eyes wide. "Why didn't- was this before you- when you were young? I mean, you beast Bienthalla so how..?"

"I loved her," she says quietly. "Part of me still does. I couldn't leave her. She needed me. But... I needed sleep, and food, and I barely got either. She just... took from me, uncaring if I was enjoying it or not."

"Is... is- can I hug you? Will that help or..?" Claudia says, voice thick. _I've never thought- not that you could- rape like that, I mean. I just... I guess... Actually... I have. Haven't you thought it was... wrong, how Estelle makes herself be with Bienthalla, even though she doesn't really enjoy it? Because she feels she's obligated to be with her?_

"Yes," she says, quietly. "I found out a few moments ago... I guess I didn't specify. I didn't think I had to. But neither did I tell Rosemary I needed a safeword, that I needed sleep, that I needed food. These things... hurt. Regardless if they're intentional or not." She sighs. "That's part of why we try to shield young people from sex. Not because it's damaging to see the things you've seen. But because... this kind of hurt never goes away. As long as your judgement is still developing, you should be protected from it."

Claudia embraces Hawke as soon as she gives the okay. "...way to turn this into a teaching moment," she teases Hawke. "I... I am okay with waiting. Mostly. Except when I'm really horny and... I know that's not who should be making decisions and stuff."

"Sorry," she admits. "I mostly wanted to feel better about dumping this crap on you." She reaches up, brushing a tear away from her eye. "I'm not doing so hot. I hate people seeing me like this."

Claudia leans over to kiss Hawke's cheek, then rests her forehead against her temple. "I am... kind of pleased. That you trust me enough to tell me, I mean."

She sighs. "I... didn't realize I'd even been charmed. How stupid is that? Some arcane expert I am."

"Well, you weren't expecting it to come during a game. And Tenechka is kind of a master at that sort of thing. I mean, she'd have to be, given her, uh, partner, and how long she's been doing it," Claudia says supportively.

"Still. I'd feel safer if I'd realized it happened."

"Maybe... maybe you should practice? I mean, I don't think Estelle know it but she could learn it easily enough. So you could get better at learning how it works and such. Or I bet you know tons of other casters, one of them could probably help," she suggests, nuzzling Hawke slightly in a somewhat absent manner.

"It's like you read my mind," she teases, with a hint of a smile.

"Pssh, I wish. I mean, I've thought about it, but I have no idea where to even start making a device to do that," the merikos gnome says with a scowl.

"That one might only be possible with magic," she admits.

"Yeah..." Claudia sighs. "Still. Be neat to try. Up for that back rub?"

"Yeah," the hero says, raking fingers through her hair. "Thanks."

Claudia hugs her tightly. "Hey, you're my friend. This it totally a friend thing to do, right?"

"Yeah," she says again, quietly. "You're my friend. It's okay to lean on you sometimes." _Or so everyone keeps telling me._

Claudia beams at her, then moves behind Hawke. "So... who was the hottie?" Claudia asks, glad Hawke can't see her blush.

"Jassinth? I was hoping you'd get a chance to meet him. Well, Estelle really. He's-- we think he's Bienthalla's son, probably. Abandoned as a babe, raised here."

Claudia stares at the back of Hawke's head. "... were you cursed by a divine will or something? But in a humorous or 'amuse me silly mortal' sort of way, not a 'suffer and die alone' sort of way."

"I mean, I am twice-lived, not counting the time I was rescued by Vangal's direct intervention, and I've got an Oracle of Alydra pulling for me, so... yes?" she jokes.

"Have you ever considered having a bard or playwright tell your story?" Claudia says after a few seconds, grabbing a bottle of massage oil. "You like the lavender and mint, right? For your back I mean, not... lower."

"Yes, that's fine." She smiles. "I've thought about it once or twice. I'm just not sure I want people knowing the truth about me."

"Well.. maybe have it written, then have it sealed or something? Put it in your will to have it published then," Claudia suggests. "I just think... well, you've done a lot. And, well, just like right now, the stuff you've done could really help other people."

"That's part of why I have a clan: to know what I know, to remember me when I'm gone."

"Fair enough- that's what your Famiglia does as well. They carry on your life after you're gone," Claudia says as she works on Hawke's back. Feeling a little daring, she leans in to press a soft kiss to the older female's back.

She smiles. "I'm sorry I'm a mess," she says softly. "I'm sure you'd prefer I be strong and brave, like a real hero."

"Eh, stories with perfect heroes are boring," Claudia says as works her way down Hawke's spine. And drops another kiss. "It means more, that you struggle. That you aren't perfect. Makes it... real, I guess."

Marian falls quiet then, contemplating, letting Claudia comfort her. Letting herself be comforted, with her new friends. The air warms as her muscles relax, and by the time they head back down the hall, she's feeling much more herself.

Claudia rolls her eyes. "I'm not sure why I'm at all surprised," she whispers to Hawke at the sight of Estelle bonding with her cousin. She's blushing furiously and rather clearly taken by Jassinth.

"Things seemed to be going that way when I left," she admits.

Claudia licks her lips. "Gods, that's... oh, uh... does that taste good?" she asks in a mumble, blushing even harder as she watches Estelle's head bob. Maeve smirks lightly as her hands run up and down Isabela's back and bum, then gives Hawke an inviting eyebrow wiggle.

"Only one way to find out," she jokes, as if she hasn't done exactly that frequently and with great relish.

\---

Some time later, Hawke curls up to Estelle, sighing contentedly. "So that talk went well?"

"...oh shit, right," Estelle says after a long moment.

She groans. "Estelle..."

"He's hot," Estelle protests, glancing over at Jassinth, who is currently passed out atop Maeve. "And very... vigorous. Needs practice with his tongue work... but I suppose I do have high standards on that." She wilts under Hawke's stern look. "I'll talk to him in the morning, I promise. And we can write to each other."

"Thank you," she says, with a contented sigh. "Sorry for bailing."

"Do... you want to talk about it?" the drow whispers. _I'm just glad you seem okay with me, my dearest friend._ The drow blinks. _Dearest friend? I've only known her for... and yet..._

"I don't like surprises," she whispers. "I... told Claudia some of why. I suppose I should tell you as well, but..."

She takes a deep breath, her hand moving to trace her scar. "I will just say, for now, that it reminded me of the incident in which I obtained this scar. The... the time I was raped."

A second hand reaches down, slipping atop Hawke's own hand. "You don't owe me the story, Hawke. If you want to tell me, I'll listen. But you don't have to," Estelle says firmly. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything that night."

"You didn't know I hadn't consented," she says, shaking her head. _Just like Seli didn't know I needed out._

"Doesn't mean I don't feel like I _should_ have," Estelle says softly. "You'd told me you didn't... do that sort of game, earlier. Not outright maybe but you had and even if you'd been willing to expand other boundaries during our time together, that doesn't mean..." She sighs, nuzzling Hawke's neck. "I'm sorry. I was supposed to be looking out for you, teaching and guiding you and I failed."

"You didn't," she says softly. "You couldn't fail me, not as long as you tried." _You're Clan._ She holds back that last bit, not wanting to frighten Estelle away. "I wasn't hurt badly. It wasn't a hard limit, just a preference. I negotiated for the hard limits."

"We need to make you a Sub Pact," Estelle says. "I should have done that earlier but I was... caught up in the joy of you."

"A.. sub pact? Some kind of legal document?" she asks, carefully.

"No- well, it can be but not really," Estelle says. "It's more a list of your rules- hard and soft- that you can refer to. Even show to your prospective doms. Makes it harder for you to forget to mention a rule and makes it harder for them to say you didn't tell them something. Some subs do like to... register it, so to speak, but that's a personal choice. Your wife, for instance, would absolutely need a registered Sub Pact if she visited the Enclave. Or to be chained to you or me at all times."

She nods. "I think it's best if you and Claudia visit Nyra to hang out with her, rather than..." She sighs. "Though she's fascinated by your lack of nudity taboo, Merrill is far too trusting."

Estelle nods back, a hungry look in her eyes. "Mmmmh," she purrs for a second, then coughs. "I mean, yes, exactly."

"She is the crown jewel of our Clan, the glittering heart of us." _And apparently more attractive than me, though I really should try not to be so jealous of that._

Estelle blushes a little. "I have to admit, my current favorite fantasy is the two of us topping our wives together. Taking turns as we please them, tease them and make them whimper," she whispers huskily in Hawke's ear. "Sometimes I include Zevran... and maybe Jassinth now. Making our wives watch as they slowly fuck us as we kiss and touch each other. Making them beg."

"She does beg so prettily," moans Hawke.

The drow laughs softly. "I can only imagine... yet," she whispers. Estelle studies Hawke for a moment, then pulls her face down for a kiss. "I think... she seems a near perfect sub but... that's not nearly as much fun _out_ of the bedroom. She'd make a lovely pet, playmate, but you're a better friend. To me, I mean. I'm not saying this right."

"I appreciate it anyway," says Hawke, with a soft smile. She reaches a hand up to caress Estelle's cheek. _See? Being jealous is pointless. You're not the best sub, or maybe even the best lover, but you're special anyway. There's something to love about you anyway._

Estelle smiles up at Hawke, then pulls her close. Not for sex, she's actually sated for once, but just to be closer. _It might be a weakness, feeling this way for someone I honestly just met. Someone that's not Famiglia, not even of the Enclave. But... I can't seem to care. I trust you. Gods. I trust her. I may very well love you, yes, but more than that, I feel confident, in a way that I only feel for Claudia and Toren, that you won't betray me. That I can turn my back, expose my throat and open myself to you without fear. That you'll stand by me, stand up for me._ Eyes damp, she pulls Hawke close and smiles.


	8. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke returns to Nyra, her trip concluded at last.

Over breakfast, Estelle does focus her attention on Jassinth, telling stories and explaining things. There are a few spots where the male looks a little dubious or even outright bothered, but for the most part, it goes fairly well. They agree to definitely exchange letters and even make tentative plans for Jassinth to visit sometime in the next few years- Claudia had blurted out 'two years or so would be great' at this point, getting smirks in exchange for her furious blushing. The sour note came at the end, with Regind arrived rather urgently. Evidently his wife had noticed Jassinth being missing and, not being a fool, realized exactly where he was. Thankfully, he'd been able to convince Jaina to let him go instead of charging in herself, though that was only because it was also known that Maeve was on the ship. Still, that aside, the meeting had been good.

Eventually, the Siren's Echo departs. They only make two more stops on the way home, one just a rather boring visit to a minor hamlet in order to at least pretend Estelle is touring Nyra's protectorates, the other to make contact with Sophia. The minstrel had indeed written to the Enclave, interested in a repeat performance. A few hours conversation with Estelle, however- and the realization that Estelle is not looking for some exclusive- turned the woman off on the arrangement. Still, they parted amicably enough, with Estelle offering some tips and advice on exploring her newfound interest.

Arriving in Nyra is a bit tedious- even with Hawke being a Light, they have to go through customs like everyone else. Sure, it's a bit faster for Hawke... which just means she finds herself waiting for the others. And waiting. And... waiting. Finally, Isabela comes out, followed shortly by Claudia. And then more waiting. And more. Wait... the only two still to come are Estelle and Toren...

Hawke sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Dammit. Wait here," she mutters, before drawing herself up and walking back into the guard station.

Claudia blinks, then gives Isabela a puzzled look. "Does it normally take this long or..?" she asks in a low voice.

The desk sergeant barely glances up before continuing with her paperwork. "Yes Lady zi'Hawke?" she asks politely, if somewhat busily.

"Listen, we've got a situation here," she says, frowning slightly. "Can you tell me how much longer I can expect to wait for my guests to be released?"

"Names please, Lady Sage?" she asks.

"Lady Estelle and her manservant Toren."

"One second..." She grabs a clipboard and flips through it. After a moment, she pauses in her searching as a frown appears. Shifting, she exposes her badge and reaches for another clipboard. Sgt. Blaine's frown deepens. "Neither of them have been entered in yet so they must still be in their initial interview," she grunts. Standing, she glances at Hawke. "I gather you'd like to come with me to check on this?"

"Please," the Sage says, with a tired smile.

Sgt. Blaine nods, then heads down the hallway. She checks in a few doors, seeing them empty, then finally hits paydirt on the fourth.

"Sir, I need you to fill out the forms," the guard says in a very irritated tone, tapping his finger on the papers in between them both.

Toren stares at the guard blankly. "I have."

"In common."

Toren says nothing, though he looks... awkward to Hawke's eyes. Hides it well, but she has gotten to know him somewhat well during the trip.

Hawke clears her throat, stepping inside and folding her arms. "Toren, do you need to avail yourself of one of many official translators? The guard is happy to pay for one, as they do for all visiting dignitaries and anyone who is illiterate."

"Illiter-" the guard cuts off. "Why didn't he just say so?" he snaps.

"I am literate," Toren growls. "I can read, write and speak three languages." _Drow, gnomish and abyssal._

"As I said. Visiting dignitaries, particularly those whose command of the local language is insufficient to understand the intricacies of the form." She narrows her eyes at the guard, thoughtfully. "Despite what many would have you believe, Nyra is a cosmopolitan city," she adds. In Elven.

Now the guard looks offended. "Yeah, that's fine, he just-" He swallows the complaint. "Fine. What languages do you read so I can find a translator?" he asks.

Toren shifts uncomfortably. "...gnomish," he finally grunts.

"If you can write Elven, Dwarven, Draconic, Orc, Infernal, or Sylvan, I can save us all some time," Hawke mentions, offhandedly.

"I do not speak any of those languages, Mistress, my apologies," Toren says instantly. "Shall I correct this?"

The guard double-takes at hearing the guy speak more in that one go than in any dozen exchanges with him. _The fuck?_

"No, that's alright. Though, since you do _speak_ Common, I don't see why you can't dictate the answers to Guardsman..." here, she waits for him to give his name.

"Da- ah, sorry, Private Danners," the guard says with a flush. Private? Hawke isn't an expert, but she's been with Aveline long enough to know it's rare for a private to be doing an intake by themself. Especially for a more complicated one, such as dignitaries or even just a non-citizen. "And yes, I can do that. I just need to grab a new set of forms." Suiting word to deed, Danners gets up to get a new set from a filing cabinet.

Hawke moves into the room then, putting a hand on Toren's shoulder. "If you have any more trouble, do as you did. I'm going to find Estelle, then I'll come back if you're not done by then."

"As you command, Mistress," Toren says in a low voice, eyes on the sergeant. Why... ah, female.

"Private Danners, where is your partner?" asks Sgt. Blaine.

"Ah, Corporal Bicks is assisting Sergeant Wildin with a priority intake, ma'am," Danners replies absently as he tries to find the correct forms.

"Right, about that." Hawke sighs. "Let's hurry? I can't imagine that's going any better." And so saying, Hawke steps back from Toren, heading for the door.

"What are we expecting to walk into?" Sgt. Blaine asks gruffly as they quickly head down the hallway, checking doors as they go.

"Estelle's a Drow noble. I don't know this Corporal Bicks, but I know Estelle. She won't start trouble, not here, not intentionally, but if there's a conflict she'll finish it."

"What the fuck?" Sgt. Blaine half shouts a few moments later. Which is fair, really.

At first, the sight in front of them looks like Estelle is... offering some drow-style culture sharing. Sprawled out on the table are a pair of men, a merikos elf and a human. Both of them have their pants around their ankles, face to face, and they each appear to have their hands tied together behind each other's backs with some white gooey threads. They're also both shouting but no noise can be heard. On the other side of the table is Estelle holding a black iron rod. She looks furious, likely in regards to the dark mark on her cheek and slightly swollen lip. Thankfully, her dress is both on and undamaged, though the left strap has slide off her shoulder.

"Estelle," she snaps, her tone ice cold. As she takes in Estelle's face, the temperature drops as well. "Leave them. We're done here."

"Lad-" Sgt. Blaine starts over as she gets a glimpse of Hawke's face. "Lady zi'Hawke, we can go to another room, but I need to... get the full story of what happened here," she says carefully.

Estelle takes a deep breath, then forces a thin smile. Nodding, she steps around the table to head for Hawke. Given the way her steps make no sound, she can't talk. Well, can't talk and be heard.

"No worries. I'm going to walk my guest back to Private Danners while you fetch Captain Vallen. I'm sure she'll be _quite_ interested in this matter." Her grin is predatory.

Sgt. Blaine winces, tossing the two guards a pitying look. Then her eyes flick to Estelle's check and the look hardens. "There's a break room that locks from the inside if you'd prefer some privacy," she offers.

"I... would not mind a chance to freshen up," Estelle says lightly, though Hawke can see the tightness in her eyes. "Is Toren okay?"

"Thank you. If you give me directions, we'll step in there for the moment." Hawke listens patiently to the instructions, then waves the Corporal on ahead, leading Estelle to the break room and locking them in carefully. She pause a moment, her shoulders tense, facing the door, as she takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. When she turns, her face is overly cheery.

"Alright, so, rule number one of living in Coalside," Hawke begins, brightly.

Estelle has fixed the strap of her dress, and is prodding at her cheek when Hawke turns around. She looks at Hawke for a moment, then away. The hero falters, almost losing her nerve before she shakes her head. "The number one rule of Coalside is, leave the guards alone. Don't fuck a guardsman, don't trust a guardsman, don't tell them anything you don't have to, and don't hurt them. No matter how badass you might be, they have friends, and those friends make your life hell."

Hawke rubs the back of her head. "Rule number two of Coalside, know who the heroes are. If you get in over your head, come get me or Captain Vallen. We'll bail you out, always, no matter what you're involved with." _I can't believe I have to give this speech to Estelle. I can't believe she's somehow found the ugly side of Coalside within five minutes of landing. She must think we're horrific._

"I... I've never..." Estelle's voice is thick. "I want so badly to kill them both. And the woman who saw- who saw that I was... Kill them, burn to ash, vanish every trace of them." She swallows. "Is- is this how..."

Now even the smile fades from Hawke's face. "Talk to me?" she asks, quietly. "I need to know the bare bones of it, so I can coach you on what to tell Aveline."

"Is this how it feels to be male?" Estelle asks quietly, still not looking at Hawke. "Feeling... like you can't... can't... that it would cost you to... Have I ever..."

The Light's heart sinks. She drives the fingernails of her left hand into her palm, breathing deeply. "Estelle. Please. Just the shape of it, just a little."

Estelle blinks a few times, finally looking at Hawke again. "What? Oh, I'm..." She glances around again, clearly noticing the frost, the faint wisps of mist on the floor. "Hawke!" She takes a few steps forward, hands reaching for the magus's though she doesn't make contact. "I'm... fine." She winces at the hesitation. "They didn't... I stopped them before they... went very far," she says weakly.

"They hit you," she snaps. "They tried worse?" She forces herself to take a deep breath, let it out.

Estelle takes a deep breath. "I should... okay. It was the merikos elf that first questioned me. He was... hostile, but covering it for the most part with professionalism. He... seemed to know a little about drow culture. After five minutes or so of questions about what I was bringing in, my name and origins, my abilities- all things that seemed reasonable, he started asking about 'personal' items and asking... strangely phrased questions. The one he asked before leaving, and then coming back with the human, was if... was I 'was I willing to pay my entrance fee personally.' I thought he was fishing for a bribe, like the last guard but..." She rubs her arms, then mutters something under her breath in abyssal. A shimmer of red light covers her, then fades. Looking more comfortable, she gives Hawke a careful look. "Hawke, I'm not hurt. Well, my lip stings, but it's not that bad, I promise. Please..."

Which is good, because the temperature in here is dropping rapidly despite her best efforts. "You shouldn't have to bribe your way in," she snarls. "Not with coin and not with sex. That's **not** how we operate in Nyra. You're a visiting dignitary. You should be treated--" She breaks off, muttering under her breath in Infernal for a moment as she turns to the wall. She rears back; instead of a punch, somehow, a snowball flies from her open hand, hitting the wall harmlessly.

"Really?" Estelle asks in surprise. "I mean about the bribes. That's fairly normal for- Hawke, please calm down. This isn't helping," she says, voice getting a little annoyed despite her efforts to keep that out of her tone.

"Battle fatigue. I'll be fine," she snaps, pressing her forehead against the wall as she takes deep breaths. _You're in Nyra. You're with Estelle. You're safe. It's fine. Estelle is unharmed. She's fine. You're already doing everything you can. Clan is coming._

Estelle glances away, trying to calm herself. _It's not her fault, she has trauma from being raped. She doesn't mean to make this about her, she can't... its fine. I'm not really that shaken up or anything. It's fine. I can handle this. It would be nice if she could... I'm fine. It's fine._ "After they came in, they asked me to stand and give them any weapons to be inspected. I did so- all I had was a mundane dagger and my rod. Then they asked for magical items, I explained that I had many, including some piercings and couldn't they just use divination magic to inspect them through my clothing. The merikos elf... insisted they needed to see them, then added that he'd be happy to... help me disrobe." Estelle snorts with disdain. "I refused- I was not about to disrobe for a male, much less one so rude, and he grabbed the strap of my dress and tugged it off my shoulder. I pushed him away, his partner laughed and tried to grope me through my dress. I twisted so he only grazed my thigh and I elbowed him in the gut- he was behind me. The merikos elf slapped me and I..." _Panicked._ "...lost my temper."

She slams a fist into the wall. "I will--" she begins, then chokes off. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Wait for Captain Vallen to restore order," she says, softer. "You are alright? You said as much, sorry, I don't mean to imply--"

"I... I would like to..." Estelle licks her lips and glances around a little, using just her eyes. "Yes of course." _I don't want to say anything that would reveal weakness here. I don't trust this place._ "Thank you for asking, it is... pleasing to know you wish me well."

_Formal language. She's not fine. Dammit._ Hawke takes another deep breath, then straightens, lifting her head and fist off the wall. "I'm sorry to do this to you," she begins, her tone carefully neutral, "But you will have to tell the story once more, to Captain Vallen. After that, it is for her to mete out justice, while I take you home." A pause, then she adds, "I assume you wish to come home with me? I can find you lodgings if you prefer." It is now that she turns, forcing a weak smile onto her face.

"Not at all. I am looking forward to staying with you," Estelle says quickly. "I have every faith that your home will be much more welcoming and comfortable than even the finest lodging." She pauses, then nods. "And I have no issues with repeating myself in this instance. Would it help if I wrote it down?"

"It would," she begins, then hesitates. "No offense intended, but do you write Common? Toren didn't, is the thing, and nobody thought to tell him he could have a translator." She blinks, then curses faintly in Orcish. "I'm an idiot. Claudia is just outside, waiting for me to get back with you. We could bring her in, if that would help."

"That would probably be a good idea," Estelle says with a nod. _Yes, I-_ "Isabela is with her, right?" she ask, voice tight with worry.

"Of course. I wouldn't have left her alone." She takes another deep breath, her smile growing more solid. "Let's go check on Toren, and see if we can send for Claudia and Isabela."

Estelle relaxes noticeably. "Of course. Right, thank you. Let's." The pair head for the room Toren was left in, find the Private heroically prying out answers out of the drow, clipped word by clipped word. Looking amused, Estelle offers to a pair of spectacles to the guard, telling him to just copy Toren's already filled out sheet. It only takes a moment before the guard clues in, gives some effusive thanks and gets to work.

Outside, Claudia rushes to hug Estelle, having clearly worked herself up a bit. "It's fine, Claudia. I evidently filed some forms wrong last time I was here, but Hawke and a friend of her's is going to help me settle things. It might take a little longer though... how far is your home?" she asks, turning to look at Hawke. "Would it be safe for Isabela and Toren to walk her there?" _Please don't mention what happened..._

"With me? Safe as houses," Isabela promises. "Do you want me to send anyone back this way?"

_Varric_. Hawke shakes her head. "No, we've sent for Captain Vallen already."

_Meaning I should stop off at Varric's on the way._ Isabela nods, with a small wink. "Right. No trouble at all."

_What's she on about? Oh well._ Hawke smiles. "Thanks."

"Brilliant, thank you Isabela," Estelle says with a warm smile. "Toren should be out shortly, he, ah, well, the forms have to written in common," she says in a low voice, getting a wince from Claudia.

"Oh, duh, I should have thought of that," the merikos gnome mutters. "Is..."

"I loaned the guard my glasses-"

"My glasses."

Estelle rolls her eyes. "Our glasses to make a copy." Claudia snorts, but lets it go.

Hawke jams her hands into her pockets, waiting patiently -- if a bit stiffly -- for Toren to be released. Once the three of them get on their way, she walks Estelle back inside to sit and wait for Aveline, who likely has to be roused from bed this time of day -- but like hell she's going to fetch anyone else. Of course, it's only a matter of time before bureaucracy finds her: the door to the room she's waiting in opens to reveal, not the redhead she was hoping for, but a dwarf and a tiefling.

Varric barely glances at Estelle before he's moving to give his daughter a hug. Andy has slightly better manners, bowing to the drow. "Sgt. la'Frane, Lady Sage zi'Hawke's Guard Attache. Pleased to met you, Lady Emerison."

Hawke kneels, throwing her arms around Varric. "Papa," she sighs in Dwarven, hugging him tightly.

A moment later, she pulls back. "Oh, uh, manners, sorry." She blinks, then switches back to Common: "This is Lady Estelle Emerison. Estelle, this is Varric Tethras, and you heard Andy." She smiles. "They're both mine," she adds, "Andy's just on-duty Andy right now."

Estelle smiles faintly. "I'm very pleased to met you, ah..."

"You're Clan from what I hear, so Varric is fine," the dwarf says with a shrug, watching her reactions.

Which turn out to be a pleased smile. "Thank you for the honor, Varric."

Andy, meanwhile, is gesturing for Hawke to step away a little. "What's going on? Varric didn't seem to know anything when we met on the way here."

"Found more of those bad seed for Aveline to remove," she says, carefully. "I sent for her, we're just waiting now."

Andy winces, eyes noting the slightly swollen lip on Estelle. "Skin?" he asks softly, remembered pain in his eyes.

She nods, her face softening. "If you have any idea what to say, I'd appreciate it. I.. am busy keeping a lid on the old coldbox here."

"Just focus on her. Be there for her, Captain Vallen should be along shortly and she can handle the guard." He glances over at the other two. "They seem to be getting along well enough. How are you doing, given..?"

Indeed, Estelle is smiling brightly as Varric speaks. From his expression and gestures, he's telling a story.

Hawke shakes her head. "It's fine. Estelle's fine. I'll be fine." Another deep breath.

Andy glances around, then reaches over to give Hawke a quick hug. "Just a bit-"

The door opens with a loud bang. Estelle tenses, hand already curling into a spell gesture, but pauses when Aveline strides in. Her eyes instantly find Hawke, flicking up and down to check for wounds. Finding none, she looks over the others, lingering a moment on Estelle's lip. "Hawke. Report."

"I'm fine. Estelle's fine. We're all fine. Stand down," she says, the cadence sounding highly mantra-esque, despite the rapid pace. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Some of your border guards are taking bribes. And... bribes. Estelle's offered to put the whole incident in writing for you to go over at your leisure."

Aveline stills for as second, her face growing hard. "I see." Just two words but a world of meaning in them. Estelle raises an eyebrow, looking rather approving. Maybe even a touch impressed. "If you'll follow me, you can write that out and be on your way." She pauses, then confirms, "you'll be at Hawke's?"

Estelle nods. "Yes. And that sounds fine, thank you, Captain Vallen."

A minute later, they're in a small office. Estelle gets to work on writing down a slightly more detailed explanation of events with Aveline giving a few prompts. Andy has stepped out to speaking with Sgt. Blaine and handle the two guards.

Which leaves Varric with Hawke. Slipping into dwarven, he nudges her while asking, "so.... how as the trip?"

"Great," she says instantly, in the same language. "Really great. I can't wait to tell you everything. Oh, and I managed to negotiate with the Matriarch herself -- not only private dinners, but I also got a new ambassador position created." Still, the smile she flashes him fades quickly. "I did discover another weak spot to shore up, though. Something Andy can help with, I think."

Varric raises an eyebrow. _Something Andy can help with? Something about staff combat?_ "When you say negotiate..." he asks with a wince.

"A little of that, yes," she admits. "But mostly, I got her to respect me. Estelle presented me as the Matriarch of Clan Tethras of Nyra," she boasts, proudly.

"Zevran's going to _love_ that," Varric says dryly. "Still, that ambassador bit sounds good. Any luck with the trade deals?" The trade deals that are still in progress and shouldn't be public knowledge.

"I uh," she begins, rubbing at the back of her head. "Am not a hundred percent sure where they were when I left? I may have skipped one or two of the briefings. But, it was clear pretty fast that cultural differences were the larger issue. They have to trust us if they're going to flirt with protectorate status, and they don't. So I gave them a friendly face they could think of when they meet with our diplomats." She hesitates. "They told you I managed to get back here for a night? I didn't have time to stop by, sorry, but... I think the Zevran situation isn't as dire as it seemed."

"Oh yeah, I heard. Merrill floated over that morning." Varric snorts. "Literally mind you. She can fly now evidently. Is that new-new or did she just forget to mention it?"

"It's recent, but she could do it when we visited Raplin's Oak. We went flying with Jassinth's hawk." She smiles. "Not a euphemism, by the way."

"Huh. We should get some string, just in case," he says solemnly. "Zevran has been better of late. Getting really close to Q&A- Helene- and having a lot of quiet talks with Seli. I think meeting Estelle was exactly what he needed. Harder to hate a face. Well, for that reason anyway. Pretty sure he plans on ripping his bitch's heart out and setting it on fire before putting it back."

"His-- ah," she says, catching on a moment too late. "Yeah. Right there with him." _I've seen him do it, too. You don't abandon your kin. Not ever._ She almost manages to entirely suppress the guilt, too!

Varric absently smacks her arm. "Stop it. Yeah, so that won't be a big issue. But anyway, no traction at all on the trade deals? I'd heard they were really buzzing on those tomes. Friendly face and the diplomat thing will help but..."

"I'm really not that kind of diplomat," she says with a shrug. "I did see their nullstone in action, though. Definitely worth getting some, if only for a saferoom."

"Really now? So they know how to make nullstone?" Varric says with surprise. "Well now... that'll buy you even more breathing room. From what I heard, the Enclave was being real evasive on the matter, but that's definitely one of the things the Lights are interested in."

_We didn't know that? Huh. Should definitely have paid more attention. Nobody told me Drow were so hot,_ she thinks to herself, instantly regretting it. _Yeah, focus less on Estelle's hips and more on your job, Champion._ "I think the Enclave will be more receptive now."

Across the room, Aveline glances at Hawke, an arched eyebrow in play. _Does she realize she just looked at us while licking her lips?_

Varric coughs slightly. "I'm sure the Enclave was very receptive. Anything interesting other than that?"

"Loads," she admits. "While we're in town, I want you to meet Estelle's wife, Claudia. She's an inventor, she's trying to find ways to produce nonmagical inventions that do the same job as some basic spells, so anyone can use them. Wicked smart. A little bigoted -- their culture is very female-dominated, so she didn't believe me that you were smarter than I am at first. Oh, and they have these steam rooms I think you'll like, where they heat rocks in a fire and then pour hot water over them, soothes the muscle cramps like a hot tub does but without needing as long of a soak. I think they got them from the desert folk, they said? The Ifrit tribes? And I won a pit fight against one of their strongest fighters, so that'll help my reputation."

_Sex, clockwork, steam baths and pit fits. Only you Hawke._ "In fairness, there aren't many people that are smarter than you," Varric comments. "She do any chemistry?"

"If you're speaking of Claudia, then yes. I think her latest was an attempt to create a cleaning agent to clean dishes that was a bit too strong," Estelle chimes in, evidently finished with her report. "A double-strength version is currently being worked into our defenses. It dissolves a chicken to sludge in about twenty seconds." Behind her, Aveline makes a face. Lovely...

_Whoops. I hope she didn't hear me call her wife a little bigoted,_ she thinks, with a smile. "That's Claudia," she admits, switching to Common. "Too brilliant for her own good. Are we good to leave?"

"Alkaline or acidic?" Varric asks curiously.

"Yes and not sure," Estelle admits. "Your dragon was very helpful in getting this done quickly."

"Dragon?" Aveline asks, taken aback. And not sure if she's insulted or not.

Estelle blushes slightly. "Ah... sorry, I just... well, you're kind of the Vangal to her Astea."

"Yeah, uh, in Common that's a different kind of slang term," Hawke laughs. "She's my Defender, my Champion."

"Oh?" Estelle asks, looking a little amused. "Is she not that as well?" she teases, though she keeps a nervous eye on Aveline to judge her reaction.

Which is basically to turn bright red and sputter a little. Andy carefully looks away and Varric rolls his eyes.

"Nope!" she chirps. "Aveline's all woman, and delightfully so." She grins at Aveline, her eyes lidded low.

And it seems Aveline can turn even redder. "Hawke," she finally hisses.

Estelle laughs softly. "I'm sorry, I feeling a little... barbed at the moment. I'll behave. Until tonight anyway."

Varric's eye twitches a little. "So about being done- you lot eat yet? If you sent Flirty on ahead with the rest of your group, I suspect Merrill is already hip-deep in 'welcome the guests' mode."

"That sounds great," says Hawke, raking a hand through her hair.

\---

And it is great. Surrounded by Clan, not to mention Merrill's enthusiastic greetings, the last of the cold in Hawke's heart begins to thaw. Estelle really is okay, she realizes, and much better with Merrill's doting on her and Claudia's comfort. When Helene comes over with some fine cheese, Claudia's tugged off to the craft room, but some hours later, their "confetti cannon" is revealed -- complete with small explosion and a minor house fire. Lucky thing there's a bunch of spellcasters in the area who can put it out.

But it's fine. Zevran is quiet for some time, awkward around the drow and avoiding Hawke's stories; she notes that he spends a lot of time and physical affection toward Helene, which gets a raised eyebrow. _I guess I'm not the only one who's taken a new lover._

After dinner, after Varric and Aveline and Helene have left, after Estelle and Claudia have gone to the guest room to sleep, Hawke finds her solace, her ground under her feet, once again: nestled in the arms of Merrill and Zevran.

\---

Hawke sends word to Andy that she does intend to hold his usual lesson today, but they'll use her office, since her house is full of guests. Which means she has to go to her office. Which means she has to deal with the multiple piles of mail covering her desk unopened. _Astea have mercy. Can I just shove it all in the corner for now?_

"Maybe get us all sandwiches?" she offers Bodhain, eyeing the mail like a snake. "My treat?"

"And lo! Here we see that mighty hero, champion of champion, defender of the weak and innocent, routed by that most vile of foes: paperwork," Andy intones gravely. "Let us all have a moment of silence for the death of her bravery and-"

"Enough!" she groans, rubbing her temples. "Can I make it your job to do all this shit?"

"Hmmm. Well, I suppose you _could_ ," Andy says slowly. Then, just as she starts to have hope, he adds, "of course, the paperwork for setting me up to take over half your paperwork..."

"Hell," she groans. "Nevermind that for now. I actually have something important I want to ask you."

"They've already been stripped of their rank and their court-marshal will be at the end of next week," Andy says, tone darkening. "They're currently in the stocks."

"Good," she says, her tone dark, bitter. "But that's not what I meant. I uh..." She glances away, rubbing the back of her neck. "I was hoping today you could help me train? There's something specific I want to work on I think you can help with."

"Of course," Andy says without hesitation. "Not sure what I can do for you that none of your Clan can help with," he adds, a little self-pitying. "What did you need?"

"I was... taken by surprise at one point on this trip. I was hoping you could... ah... attempt to charm me? And see if I can recognize it and shake it off? Magically," she adds, shifting her weight a little, nervously.

Andy starts a little. "Are you alright?" he asks, ignoring the last part for now.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. It was part of a sex thing, it was.... I didn't negotiate to _not_ be enchanted, because I didn't realize it was a thing tieflings could do. But. What bothers me is not noticing I was charmed, so, practice and familiarity would help with that."

Andy frowns slightly. "What do you mean by that?" he asks, voice even and neutral.

"What? What do you mean, what do I mean?" she stares at him, blankly. "I had sex with a tiefling, and another partner in the scene told me later that I had been charmed, and I didn't realize it."

"What does them being a tiefling have to do with it?" Andy asks.

"What do you mean, what does them being a-- she wasn't a spellcaster, she was using innate abilities. Wasn't she?" She frowns.

Andy studies her face for a moment, then relaxes slightly. "No. If she wasn't a spellcaster, she might have just learned that specific spell or was perhaps using a device. Charm spells are not an innate talent of tieflings, even those of... succubus blood." He has to force that last bit out, venon still tainting the words.

"She definitely didn't have a device. And it didn't look like spellcasting. It really looked... innate. You're certain? She was..." She hesitates, frowning. "Tall, taller than me, with horns like this," she gestures. "She was kept as a pleasure worker by the Matriarch."

"I... suppose she could have used a ritual to grant herself abilities?" Andy hazzards. He wouldn't have a clue on how to go about that, but he knows enough to know it's possible. "Are you sure she was... a standard tiefling? It's rare, but if her, ah, other blood wasn't human, sometimes hints of that come through. I... can't think of a race that has- oh! Kitsune can have that innately. Did she have any signs of kitsune blood?"

Hawke shakes her head. "No. She had dark skin, like a drow: black skin, long silver hair. She had a tail, with a spade at the end, and sometimes she had wings, like, bat wings? Her eyes were yellow, with slitted pupils, which is much more cat than kitsune."

Andy stares. "Hawke..." he beings, then pauses. _Maybe... maybe I'm wrong. And... maybe have her home in case I'm not._ "I think I might have an idea on this, but... I want to double check something first. Meet you back at your place for lunch?"

She blinks slowly. _What on Aldis...?_ "Uh, I mean, we can, but it's way across town. What about Varric's place?" _That way I can stop by the Bazaar and get a present for Estelle on my way._

"...I'll bring food," Andy says firmly. "Chicken bake and green salad from Fried Eagle? In... say two hours?"

"Yeah, that sounds fine." _I should be able to get my shopping done and hang out with Papa for a bit._

"Alright, good," Andy says with a distracted air. "See you then," he adds before leaving the room.


	9. Tenachka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke discovers new facts about her new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your warning: we're done with the fluffy vacation arc, and it's going to get darker from here. This chapter is your first taste of where the finale is headed.

Slightly less than two hours, a few stacks of paperwork begrudgingly vanquished, and some shopping later, Hawke knocks on her Papa's door with her heel. Hands being full, she doesn't have much choice in the matter. A few moments after the second pounding, the door is yanked open. "Hawke what is- missed the Bazaar I gather?" he asks upon seeing her laden hands.

"Just a few presents," she admits, blushing faintly. "I hope it's okay, I invited Andy here for lunch. He's bringing chicken bake."

"Tch. I'll put some stew on the fire to go with it," he says with a sneer. "I'm dog sitting Beka as a head's up. She got a bit hurt day before last and Aveline is making her rest until three days before resuming work." Deeper into the house, Hawke can hear a piteous whine at the comment as Varric closes the door behind Hawke. "Don't let her rough house." Another whine.

"Hey girl, you get yourself hurt chasing the bad guys?" Hawke puts down her packages, heading toward the whine.

Beka lets out a moan. "Training injury, actually," Varric comments, getting another groan from Beka, who Hawke locates in Hawke's room, 'hiding' under the blanket with just a few inches of her hindquarters and tail sticking out. Of course, there's also the whole 'massive lump' clearly visible there so... "Working with new recruits, one of them caught her in the ribs with a polearm. Bit of a gash, but also broke two ribs."

"Ow! Poor baby, that must hurt something awful," she coos, reaching down to stroke the topside of the blanket near where Beka's head must be.

Beka grumbles loudly, but she presses up against Hawke's hand anyway. "Aveline healed her up on the spot, then decked the recruit. Healed him, then spent an hour dressing him down. Beka's probably fine, but it's procedure to take three days off after an injury," Varric says with a grin.

"Poor, brave doggy," she coos, rubbing Beka's head vigorously.

Beka's tail thumps twice on the bed, getting a chuckle from Varric. "So what brings you by for lunch? Well, you and your minder?"

"I asked him for some help training, and he had another idea he wouldn't tell me. Said he had to confirm some things first." She shrugs. "He's an odd one sometimes."

"Huh. You mentioned that yesterday," Varric notes. "Anything I can help with?"

"No, it's a spellcasting thing -- I wanted to learn how to resist a spell, or at least recognize that it was cast on me. It seems... well, to be honest, it's worrying to think I was enspelled and didn't notice."

"Seems like a good plan, yeah. Anyway, I'll go put that stew on, you comfort our poor, poor pooch for a bit," Varric says, ignoring the growl at 'pooch.'

"Alright, Papa." She sits on the bed, stroking Beka's head gently. "Tell me all about it, darling, brave girl?"

Some twenty minutes later, when she hears a knock on the door, she kisses the top of Beka's head and slides off the bed. "Get some rest," she orders, before heading to let Andy in and help him get things set up for lunch.

Beka groans at losing her cuddle partner- and the attendant belly rubs- but she does seem happier after having been pampered and made much of for a bit. When Hawke comes out to the kitchen, she finds not just Varric and Andy but also a somewhat confused Aveline. Andy is trying to convince Varric to just serve the chicken bake without 'finishing it' in the oven for a few minutes. Aveline, noticing Hawke, moves to catch her in the hallway. "Hey," she says softly, smiling almost... bashfully.

"Hey," she says happily, leaning up to kiss her briefly. "Everything alright?"

Aveline flushes slightly. "I... I seem to have gotten more... accustomed to having you around than I realized," she confesses almost guilty.

"Missed me, did you?" she teases, trailing her fingers along Aveline's arm. "I missed you too," she adds, her tone more serious.

Aveline blushes and... did she shiver a little? Wait. Accustomed or _accustomed_ to having Hawke around. "I... yes," she fumbles. "I'm... glad your back." She bites her lip, then glances away.

"When we're done here with Andy, maybe you and I need a date night?" she purrs, using a tone she learned from Estelle as she trails her fingers back down Aveline's arm.

Aveline's breath hitches. _Since when can you flirt?_ "Yes," her mouth says without permission, cracking once despite the shortness of her reply.

Hawke beams up at her. "Grand! It's a date," she says, pulling back gaily. Well, that seems to have made her day!

Aveline takes a deep breath. Another deep breath. Then grabs Hawke and hauls her in for a searing kiss. Hawke gladly kisses back, pushing Aveline backward to press her up against the wall. _Maybe lunch can wait a few minutes..._

A few minutes later, Beka slinks out into the kitchen with a put upon expression. "What bring you out here?" Varric asks, getting a disgruntled grunt and a glare back at Hawke's room in reply. "...where are... oh for the love of..."

Five minutes later, Hawke strolls out to the kitchen with a smug look and a pair of bruise marks on her neck. Aveline shuffles in a few seconds later with her hair loose and messy looking very sheepish. "...really," Varric says flatly, making Aveline shift from sheepish to mortified.

"I've been gone a month, it's important to reconnect," she says, smugly. "Is it lunchtime yet?"

"What, didn't eat already?" Andy snarks, then goes stock still, not even breathing, as he waits for divine wrath.

Hawke laughs. "You know me, I'm a dessert first kind of gal," she teases.

"Andy?" Aveline says very quietly.

"Yes Captain Vallen ma'am?" Andy squeaks.

"Breath a word of this and I will break you."

"Yes ma'am Vallen Captain!"

"Oh, leave him alone," Hawke laughs. "He knows better. Right Andy?"

"Yes ma'am!" Andy repeats firmly.

Varric snorts. "Anyway... lunch?" he asks pointedly. "I suspect Lady Lustful here can't duck out for lunch for very long."

"I do have- what did you call me?" Aveline demands.

"Lady Lawful? Been calling you that for ages," Varric says with a frown.

"Yes, let's have lunch," she manages, trying not to lose it laughing.

She sits, helping serve and keep the conversation light while they eat. Finally, as dishes are being cleared away, she leans onto her hands, elbows on the table, and asks Andy, "So, what was all that about earlier?"

"So... I double checked and... Hawke, could you... describe the, uh, woman that cast the charm spell on you again?" Andy asks carefully.

"Yeah, sure. She was nearly as tall as Aveline, coal-grey skin like a Drow, long thin horns like so, yellow eyes with slitted pupils, bat wings... you know. A tiefling." She shrugs.

Varric and Aveline exchange concerned glances. "Hawke..." Aveline says slowly. "Did... do you know anything, anything at all, about her?"

"She was working as a pleasure wor-- ah, a prostitute, for the Matriarch. Why? Is she someone you know?" Hawke searches one face, then the other, frowning. "What's going on?"

"Hawke, please. What else do you know about- whatever her name is?" Aveline presses.

"Tenachka," she says, automatically. "I don't know a lot. Please, why?"

"Fuck," Varric says, paling a little. Aveline, reading his voice, reaches over to take Hawke's hands. Voice hard-edged, the dwarven sage snaps, "Tena'ch'ka is high drow for... bound spirit of ordered darkness. It wasn't a fucking tiefling, it was a-"

"Succubus. Like my mother," Andy says in a hollow voice.

"Lilin, actually," corrects Varric. "Same idea, just the lawful mirror."

Hawke stares at Varric for a moment, then cracks a smile. "Ha ha. You got me. Good prank, guys. How did you come up with it so fast?"

Aveline pulls Hawke into a hug as Andy and Varric both cast or drink a quick cold resistance spell. "Hawke, I'm serious," Varric says quietly after he swallows.

"Tieflings can't cast that spell, unless they're casters," Andy says softly. "Succubi however, can. And... it's very, very rare for tieflings to have wings."

Hawke tears away from Aveline, standing from the table. Her skin is pale, her nostrils flared as she struggles to control her breathing. "No. No, no, this isn't funny. This so isn't funny."

"Hawke, breath," Aveline orders, voice snapping. She channels a wave of healing energy into Hawke- it can't get rid of her emotional trauma but it'll reset most of her physical issues. "You're home, you're safe. You're safe. Breath."

"You don't understand." She takes a step back, then another, ice crystallizing into perfect footprints under her feet.

Aveline goes after her, moving to take her hands. "I- I think I do," she says quietly. "You had- you were... intimate with this... being. But that doesn't- it doesn't stain you. It wasn't your fault, you didn't know." _You trusted, as you always do, and you were hurt for it. Vangal damn them all._

"Hawke, focus on here, focus on now. You're losing control of your magic," Varric says firmly, absently noting Andy pulling Beka out of the room.

_Focus on... focus on now... focus... Bethany's face, twisted in horror. That laugh. That vile, empty laugh. Bethany, forgive me, I didn't.. I didn't know... but I should have known. Don't I know what demons are like? Don't I know how they behave? I wanted to fuck, so I told myself what I needed to believe._

She continues backing away from Aveline, not accepting comfort as her clothes frost. The air around her stays relatively warm; there's no explosion of snow and sleet, just her own body temperature dropping, like a giant ice cube in the room chilling the air immediately near it but not lasting very far from the source of the cold.

_I let her touch me. She touched me! I let a fiend put her body inside me, punish me, make me beg for more. I thanked her for hurting me! A demon, a demon! I am vile, filthy, corrupted. I can never be sure again. I can never be trusted again._

Her butt bump against the kitchen counter. This jars her a moment; she pictures the counter, the layout, and her hand snakes behind her, snagging the carving knife and brandishing it toward Aveline. "St-stay back," she whispers, her voice shaking but her hand firm.

_No. You don't want to hurt Aveline. Aveline didn't do anything wrong. You know who the real culprit is here._

In a motion straight out of Aveline's and Varric's nightmares, she spins the knife, pointing it inward. Closing her eyes.

Before the knife can finish its spin, a bolt catches it on the base of the blade. It snaps in half even as it's knocked from Hawke's hand. No longer allowing Hawke to pull away, Aveline grapples her, pinning Hawke's arms to her torso. "Hawke, enough!" she shouts in her face, a pulse of healing surging through Hawke as the paladin tries to heal her instinctively, even though she knows her amata wasn't actually hurt. "You will not- don't you fucking ever!" Aveline's voice is strident, almost hysterical.

_She's caught in a spiral_ , Varric thinks, forcing himself sane. "Hawke, that's enough," he snaps. "You're not tainted or mind controlled or anything else."

_You're not tainted. You're not mind controlled. 'How could you do that? After Bethany? Don't you even care about your family?' No, this isn't-- Carver was right about me. No, stop it. Carver's not here. Aveline, focus on Aveline. You're not controlled. Or are you? How can you be sure? You let that **thing** touch you, you let it ensorcel you, how can you ever be trusted again, you have to -- you have to solve the problem. _ She doesn't fight Aveline, letting the woman pin her against the counter, eyes closed, cold and blue, her face slack, empty.

"I have you, you are not leaving me, you do not get to leave me now, not after making me love you, you do **not** ," Aveline growls in her ear, voice low and panicked.

Moving closer, Bianca still in hand, Varric says carefully, "Hawke... it's okay. You're safe. You're home. You're with Clan. We can fix this. It's not- we can fix this."

"I have to," she begins, her voice small, broken, distant. Varric's heard this voice once before: _'I have to clean up the scene.'_ Instead of finishing her sentence, she comes up with a strangled whimper. _Aveline. I can't leave Aveline, I can't hurt her again, I can't, I can't. I can't leave Merrill. I have to try harder, I have to find another solution._

"Hawke talk to us. Say your thoughts aloud," Varric says firmly. "Don't sink into your head, reach out to us."

"I let it touch me," she whispers, eyes still closed. _Papa..._ "I let it touch me and went back for more. I let it punish me. I called it mistress. I let it enchant me, probably more than once, I don't even know. I am tainted, I am vile, I am corrupted..."

"Hawke, you didn't _know_. You would never had let it if you knew," Aveline says quickly, urgently. "You're not tainted or corrupted, I promise. And- and there are rituals. To cleanse and purify. We can- we can do them together. With you every step of the way, I swear."

"I should have known. I didn't want to know. I wanted to _fuck_. That's all I cared about. The key to me isn't power, or riches, it's just sex. I'll let anything touch me, corrupt me, pervert me, for sex." Her voice falls into a cadence, almost a chant.

"But it doesn't touch you. It's not about flesh, about getting off for you," Aveline says softly. "It's about touching and being touched. About being close. Being _with_ someone. You tried to... share yourself, tried to offer trust and friendship and you were hurt. It... you risk your heart so much. It's gotten you all of us, gotten you your Clan, but..."

Varric steps over, reaching out to grasp Hawke's hand. "You fucked up," he says bluntly, getting a sharp glare from Aveline. "But it can be fixed. Forgiven. You can learn from it and get stronger. And we'll help."

"I dealt with _demons_. I bargained with a demon. I--" She chokes off, bowing her head, her whole face contorted in pain -- but that's a little better than the emptiness, isn't it?

_Devil,_ Varric's mind corrects. "No you didn't," Varric says firmly, before Aveline could speak. "You were tricked by a devil. Which... isn't good," he allows. "But it wasn't something you meant to do. It was a mistake, not a sin."

"I made a bargain. I took something from it." _Devil. It was a devil. It wasn't quite the same as the thing that killed Bethany. It was like Andy, but more so._

"No, it doesn't work like that," Aveline says quickly. "You went into it with the understanding, on all sides, that it was just a game. Pretend. It doesn't have any claim or hold over you."

_I was a fool to think the Matriarch respected me. She probably was laughing at me behind my back, about how easily a so-called Matriarch would fall under the sway of a devil. She probably thinks we're weak._ She lets out a low moan. "I ruined this, I ruined everything, I'm weak," she whispers.

"Absolutely not Hawke, you're not weak," Aveline says soothingly. "You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone will forgive you. Worry about you, yes, but we'll still love you. You're still our Hawke."

"I think we need to talk to Estelle," Varric says slowly. "We need more information."

"No," she whimpers. "She can't see me like this. They respect strength." She takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to pull herself together.

Varric studies Hawke for a moment. "Alright. How about this. Aveline, can you take the rest of the day-"

"Fuck work," Aveline snaps.

"..." Varric nods curtly. "Good. Take her to the main Astea temple. Reassure her by getting her... cleansed or whatever. I'll go... chat with Estelle, find out some more about this Tenachka."

_Astea. The temple. What if she-- what if she rejects me? What if the gods no longer favor me, after I.. after I did something so stupid?_ Hawke lets out a small whimper, but she buries her head against Aveline's shoulder, seeking out the captain's strength.

By the time they arrive at the temple, her hands are trembling, but she's more under control, more focused. She lets Aveline do the talking, lets them lead her back into the depths of the temple, letting them help her undress -- _clumsy fingers, keep shaking, why am I so useless?_ \-- and put on the clean, cotton robe. She fumbles her way into the top of the temple, the brilliant sunroom, letting the pure sunlight, reflected through crystals and stained glass until it flood the room with multicolored light, soothe her soul. She remains there for almost an hour, letting the Light of Astea purge any taint of darkness in her soul.

And crying maybe a little.

When she leaves, she seems to at least have plastered over the cracks in her psyche. She doesn't talk much, giving minimal answers to Aveline's questions, but she agrees to go to her home, to face Merrill and Zevran and Estelle and Claudia and Varric. _What am I going to say? I have to try to play this off casually. I can't let Merrill know what I-- Zevran can never know any of this either. This is going to be difficult._ As they approach, she says softly, "I'm going to need to do damage control, but... please don't tell anyone what happened?"

"Hawke," Aveline sighs "You know I- we- can't do that. I won't tell them but you have to. You need to trust them."

"I.. let me do it in my own way, in my own time?" she begs. _I don't know if I can ever tell Zevran._ "I don't want Merrill freaking out in front of guests," she adds, going for the less objectionable objection.

"Hawke... they'll notice," Aveline says gently, pulling Hawke close. "You're clearly shook up and they both know you far, far too well not to notice. You can ask them to wait, for a while, but they'll know you're... hurting."

"You have to help me hide this from Zevran," she insists, in a whisper. "I hate to do it but..."

Aveline narrows her eyes. "I will not help you hide something so important from him. I won't put him in danger like that."

"Aveline, please, he'll leave me," she whimpers, her voice small.

"Not on broken le-" Aveline takes a deep breath. "He won't. He loves you far too much to leave you. Ever. He'll be terrified and... we'll have to be careful in how we tell it or he'll try to assassinate the Matriarch. And possibly Estelle, depending on if she... But he won't leave you, you know better than that."

"I haven't even told him about the Matriarch, he's going to -- he won't be able to get past it. To touch me again." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You're right, of course," she adds, a moment later. "I have to tell him. But... not yet? Not while I feel so...?"

"...alright. Not tonight. Tonight, you... still owe me a date night. Dinner and cuddles at my place," she says lovingly.

She nods, turning to Aveline. She takes a deep breath, straightens, tries to put on a casual smile. It doesn't work; she looks pale, shaken, and there's doubt in her eyes, her smile too thin and too fake. "How's it look?" she asks.

"....better?" the Paladin offers half-heartedly.

She groans, rubbing her face. "I really should learn illusions. Oh well." She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and turns to open her front door.

"Hawke," Aveline says just before the door opens. "Got your back, amata."

With the door open, Hawke can see the living room is empty, but she can hear voices coming from the kitchen. Sounds like... Varric and Estelle. Actually, come to think of it, Zevran is working right now. _Dodged a poisoned bolt there,_ Hawke realizes, relieved. Merrill's probably home though. Straining her ears, Hawke can just make out that Estelle seems to be... telling a story about her Grandmother? She can't make out most of it, but that's the impression she's getting. She heads for the kitchen, first, to warn Varric about her... plans.

As she'd guessed, when she and Aveline enter the kitchen, they spot Varric and Estelle chatting. Varric has a smile on his face, but Hawke knows him well enough to know it's one of his masks. "-absolutely hilarious," Estelle is saying, her back to the door as she pours herself a glass of juice. "Tenachka is pleasant enough when she's not acting the guard or in a game, but she's not exactly warm and cuddly. So her expression when Grandmother ordered her to 'cuddle the baby-sheep' thing was _priceless_. I'll admit I wouldn't know what to do either, but still. Hilarious."

"Fun Grandma stories?" says Hawke lightly, her tone absolutely not matching her face. She comes up behind Estelle, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist to prevent her seeing her face.

Estelle jolts a little as the embrace, then leans back into it. "Mmmh," she says, resting her hands on Hawke's. "Claudia is with Merrill, they're really becoming fast friends." Her voice is very pleased.

"Yeah, she was just telling me a couple of stories about her Gran-"

"Matriarch Emerison," Estelle cuts in, turning her head slightly. "..sorry. It's just- it's very... very improper for you to address her as such."

"...right, sorry. Anyway, she was telling some stories about Matriarch Emerison's assistant slash body guard, Tena'ch'ka," Varric tries again.

"Tenachka," Estelle corrects him. "Your pronunciation is fairly good, but her name isn't drow, so the accent is wrongly applied there. I had assumed her name was the typical human fusion but evidently not?"

"Apparently I get first-name privileges," teases Hawke, though she pales slightly. _Because I'm her pet plaything, not because she respects me. No, that's not true. It's just a theory. Right?_

Estelle smiles at Hawke's words. "In private anyway. My mother and I can get away with familiarity as her favored heirs, but everyone else has to be formal. I was really quite pleased that she gave you permission to use her first name, that's a rare honor," she adds.

"How rare?" Varric asks casually. "Just trying to get a feel for the cultural differences."

Chuckling softly, Estelle remarks, "I can see his influence on you, Hawke. Ummm. It's hard to say, as they'd only use it in private but... certainly nor more than a score or so. perhaps? Claudia, my sisters and aunts of course. I know my mother's wife doesn't have permission."

Hawke's face sours, though she keeps her tone light. "She was pleased with me."

"What about her aide, Tenachka?" Varric adds, frowning at Hawke's tone.

Estelle snorts. "Tenachka is a pet. Happily so, but still. Grandmother would _never_ shame and lessen herself by allowing her name to leave the lips of a pet."

"A pet?" Aveline says, voice tight. Hawke can feel Estelle tense, then force herself to relax.

"...as I said, happily so. They've been... together for my whole life. Far longer, as I'm fairly certain she came to the surface with my Grandmother," Estelle says carefully.

"...How long ago was that?" the hero asks, quietly.

"Ummm... Well. We joined with the Robijin Famiglia just over three hundred years ago. And there was a decade or so of wandering before we found them," Estelle muses out loud. "So somewhere between thirty two and thirty three decades?"

Despite herself, Hawke's arms tense around Estelle's middle. She manages to keep in the cold -- barely -- but she can't do that and control her tension, her breathing. "I didn't think tieflings lived that long," she says, tone carefully neutral.

Estelle blinks a few times. "Tieflings have the same lifespans as drow," she says back, puzzled.

"So shouldn't Tenachka be as old as Matriarch Feythiel?"

A surprised sound slips out from Estelle's lips. "I... suppose she should? I mean, Grandmother doesn't look four hundred either, three at most, but... I suppose I've never really thought about it. Is that common for tieflings?" she asks curiously, making a gentle effort to turn around so she can look at Hawke.

"She doesn't know," Hawke sighs, glancing up at Varric as she releases Estelle. She turns her back to her, taking a moment to collect herself.

"Agreed," Varric says.

"Knows what? Hawke, what's going on?" Estelle asks warily, shifting so she can defend herself. And, both of Hawke's Clan note, Hawke. And from Aveline more than Varric.

"You don't speak high drow, do you?" Varric asks idly.

"What? No, of course not," Estelle snaps. "We cast that aside along with," she makes a grasping, choking gesture," but that doesn't answer-"

"Tena'ch'ka is high drow. Means 'bound spirit of ordered darkness' which is a fancy way of-"

Estelle makes a soft keening noise and moves to embrace Hawke before jerking back. "I didn't- Are you- are you sure? I- she never said- I never asked but I wouldn't-"

"I'm sure," the hero says, her tone like ice, her hands starting to shake. She balls them into fists, trying to stop them, trying to hold back the ice.

Aveline is right there, taking her hands from the front even as Estelle goes to wrap her arms around Hawke just as the merikos elf had done with her just previously. The drow flinches at the contact, but soldiers past it. She also winces a little at the biting cold but ignores that too.

"Hawke, please... tell me what I can do to help?" Estelle begs.

"You can't," she says, her tone dark. _I'm already tainted, already cursed. Already hers._

"Hawke, stop it," Aveline orders, squeezing her hands. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you."

"What do you- what does she mean, 'wrong' with you? You- do you mean the charm effect? Hawke, that's long since faded," Estelle assures her.

"Assuming that's all it did," she snaps. "Which we don't know. Can't know. You weren't there the first time and I--" _barely remember the details._

"Yes we can," Aveline assures her. "We can do more prayer and rituals to make sure. We can... ask Seeker Helene to look for anything wrong. We can..."

"I could ask," Estelle offers softly. "I don't... I mean, Grandmother never told me she was as tiefling, I just... assumed. She could tell us- tell me- if Tenachka did... anything long lasting. But I don't think she would have allowed it. I mean.... you were my guest. She wouldn't have hurt you, if only for my sake."

"Why did she take to me so quickly," she whispers. _Because it was a trick._

"Well... I may have talked you up for about three straight hours," Estelle says with a blush. "Plus... I may have mentioned you... a lot... over the weeks leading up to that morning. Plus, you were new. I mean, Grandmother has probably been with every of-age female in our Famiglia, so having someone new..." She rests her head against Hawke's, and whispers," and... well, you're you."

"She's not wrong about that," Aveline agrees with a choked laugh.

"I'm _me_ ," she agrees, and her tone holds none of the wonder and love. _I'm a mage. I'm a former delinquent. I'm someone who abandons and fails my kin. I'm the least among the Lights. I'm a lawbreaker. I'm a devil-fucker._

"You're a hero. You've save so many people, their lives and their souls. Over and over again." Again, Varric reaches out to rest a strong, solid hand on Hawke's arm.

"You trust and accept. Even those that others would scorn, would hate. You give people chances to prove themselves." Estelle presses herself against Hawke's back, trying to share the warmth of her body with the chilled magus.

"You love. So brightly, so freely. Without care to class or race. Without judgement or reservation." Aveline's voice is tight, pained, and her eyes wet with tears.

Hawke bows her head, tears forcing their way out through her closed eyelids despite her best efforts. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just... I can't get past the idea that I've done something horrible, that I've... crossed a line."

"I... I think she needs... a higher degree of forgiveness," Estelle says softly. "Or rather, she needs to hear it. From everything I've read, your goddess already has."

Aveline nods slowly. "The purification ritual we did before we came was on sacred ground but... something more... obvious maybe? Hawke?"

"What, do you think the Songstress will accept an invitation to tea?" Well, at least she's clawed her way back to 'dark humor' anyway.

"Well, not personally no, but one of Her factors... yes," Aveline says simply.

"I hardly think this is worth that level of..." Hawke gestures helplessly.

_"Of course you are."_

A pause, then Varric offers, "jinx?"

"Shut up Varric," Aveline says with a sigh.

"Jinx? A... joke curse?" asks Estelle, frowning.

"Divine factors are... busy," she concludes lamely. "I'm only a mortal."

"I'll explain later," Varric says distractedly. "And Hawke. Stop trying so hard to tear yourself down you act like an idiot. You're a Twice-Lived Hero with three fucking divine patrons. And that's three patrons from the main pantheon, not just teeny deities."

"Don't call... they're not 'teeny deities' Varric," Aveline scolds him. "But... yes. You're not just a mortal Hawke."

_That's mostly a joke,_ she wants to argue, but does not. She instead takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "Alright. If you can arrange... something, it's worth trying."

"I _know_ I can," Aveline assures her. _If I don't have the pull myself, I'm sure I can get a few other people to toss their weight in. But I doubt it'll be hard._ "Do you want to do that now?"

"N-now? Right now?" she asks, startled.

"Hawke, I'm probably in the top ten for most powerful paladins in all of Nyra. Plus, I'm a Vangalite and a Guard Captain. I have a fair amount of influence with the Astean church. Plus, you're not without some pull yourself," Aveline points out.

"I have a few markers I can call in as well," Varric offers.

"I can seduce people if we... need to," Estelle offers, faltering as Aveline and Varric stare at her. "I just... want to help too," she mumbles, flushing a little.

Hawke lowers her head. "Alright. Estelle, help me tell my wife what we're planning. Aveline, what do we... need? Do? Here?"

"Back to the temple," Aveline replies. "They'll have a summoning chamber suitable for it. And Bright Victoria- head of Nyra's Astean clergy," she adds for Estelle's sake, "would be able to get us our best response."

Estelle nods firmly. "Okay. Do... Could you distract Claudia?" Estelle asks, glancing at Varric. "I'll need to warn her about Tenachka later but... later is fine."

Hawke nods, disentangling herself from the group hug to head toward the back for Merrill. She and Varric neatly separate the two, Hawke leading Merrill back toward Estelle by the hand. _I can't just leave her here. She got me that sap at Raplin's Oak, it would be unfair to leave her out of something this important. And Aveline's going to make me tell her why sooner or later anyway._

Merrill winds her arms around Hawke, pulling her to a stop. She stares at Hawke for a good few seconds, then leans in for a kiss. "Can you talk about it?" she asks gently, eyes kind and loving. Estelle, figuring she might as well, resumes her 'hugging from behind' position.

"I have to," she says, her tone grim. "Merrill... we're going to summon one of Astea's assistants. To... ask something important." She looks away, waiting for a response. _I can't stand to see Merrill's forgiveness when she doesn't even know what I've done._

"H-Hawke," Merrill asks in a very tight voice. "Is- is- is s-someone d-d-dead?"

"No! No, my dear one, my heart, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" She takes a deep, wavering breath, letting it out slowly. "I'm going about this all wrong, my love. It's me. I'm... I may have... come into contact with..." Another deep breath. "I may be tainted," she blurts.

Merrill sags against Hawke, breath hitching. "T-t-tainted?" she asks weakly.

"Do you remember either of us mentioning my Grandmother's, ah, companion? Tenachka?" Estelle asks gently. Merrill glances at the drow, nodding just a tiny amount.

"She's cast at least one, potentially more, spells on me. And she's... not a tiefling, it turns out." Hawke swallows hard. "I don't.. you know how I feel about sceleratii, and I..."

"Tenachka is... almost certainly a devil. A lilin," Estelle says quietly. "I... I need to contact my Grandmother and confirm it but..."

"Oh. What- what did..." Merrill asks, worried again as she runs her hands over Hawke as if to search for blood or wounds.

"Just a charm spell, we think," Estelle says quickly. "Long since expired. But Bright's Vallen going to arrange for us to speak with a pavitra to confirm that Hawke's fine."

"I let it touch me," Hawke whispers, with pure disgust and self-loathing in her tone.

"Touch... ooooh. Well... that was silly. But you didn't know. And we're fixing it, right?" her wife asks, desperately.

"Yes, absolutely," Estelle assures her. "It was just sex, no deals, bargains or pacts. And she didn't know, so she was tricked, she didn't willingly associate with sceleratii."

Hawke looks away. _Just sex... it wasn't, though. But, to be fair, I negotiated with the Matriarch, right? But, I would have agreed to anything mid-scene, especially when denial play came into it. So... did I?_

"Hawke," Estelle says firmly, taking her cue from Aveline and Varric's behavior. "Grandmother can be... amoral, even cruel, but she values her word very highly. You said you agreed that you would take no permanent harm during your games. As her pet, anything Tenachka did would be on her hands. So Tenachak couldn't harm you, not anything long-term, even if you agreed later."

Merrill hugs Hawke tighter. "That sounds good," she says quickly. "Right?"

"It... sounds good," she says, slowly. "But I still..." She shrugs, helplessly. "So many ways around it. What do you consider harm? Maybe being enthralled by a devil is beneficial somehow."

Estelle shakes her head again, pressing a kiss to the back of Hawke's neck. "A game agreement isn't like making a bargain with," _a devil_ , "a rival Matriarch," she substitutes smoothly. "You're not trying to find a loophole or gain an advantage. If you're dishonorable, if you try to nitpick and, what's the word, weasel your way through it, then your personal honor is damaged, which would make future games unlikely. No-one, no-one, would be willing to trust someone that does something like that. Even Grandmother, as Matriarch, would face a lot of backlash. You just don't _do_ that. Especially not for an honored guest. Getting one over someone else is a coup, someone to desire, but games are about trust at the root of things."

"I'm an elf," Hawke says quietly. "Would it work the same? Would she... care?"

"Merikos elf," Estelle points out. "I mean, Zevran- I mean, uh, historical Zevran, the woman he fell for was an elf and she still tried to save him. Lead a coup too early for him. So... Oh, and... for me, if nothing else. I made it clear how much I liked you, so doing that would be a cut on me as well. And, you saw that Grandmother isn't... indirect in expressing her disappointment with those that displease her."

"Historical Zevran?" Merrill mouths silently, her interest perked for a moment.

Hawke nods slowly. "We'll know soon enough, anyway," she says, closing her eyes to lean back against Estelle. _I'll tell Merrill about historical-Zevran later._

Estelle presses against Hawke automatically, though she's able to stop herself from grinding or anything. Very much not the right time for that... "Alright... let's get going. I'm sure Bright's Vallen will be ready for us to arrive by now," she says softly.

\---

A short walk later- one which Estelle makes while under a Disguise spell making her appear elven- has them arrive at Sunhome, the Astean temple. It's a dazzling edifice, of course, being the temple of the goddess of beauty and art. Gleaming gold and silver streaked marble, carefully laid out gardens of humble plants, stained glass windows, fountains adorned with murals and statues, the works. It's somewhat similar to the temple of Ciren, but more stately and polished. Ciren is about passion, not talent, after all- not a nice way of putting it, but not entirely incorrect. Still, it's not overdone or ostentatious, just stately and beautiful. Once they enter and ask the greeter, they're directed to a small side room to wait for Aveline to come back.

Merrill tugs and prods Hawke into taking a seat on the silk cushioned loveseat there, then promptly climbs into her lap. Estelle hesitates a moment, but takes a seat cuddled next to them when Merrill reaches out for her hand and a simple, 'more hugs are better than hugs.' Profound really. After some quiet, Merrill asks about 'historical Zevran' and Estelle eagerly jumps on the topic to fill the silence. She goes into more detail than she had with Hawke previously, making a real story out of it. She's just winding up the romance part of the story, about to get to when Zevran returned to the Underdark, when there's a knock on the door.

Hawke swallows, stomach rolling with anxiety -- or, no, straight up fear. "Come in," she calls, her voice hoarse.

Aveline slips into the room, her very presence helping push down the anxiety rolling in Hawke's stomach. Paladins make great girlfriends for all sorts of reasons. "Hey," she says quietly. "Bright Victoria will have ten minutes to spare in an hour. Most of that will be spent on the summoning itself, so she'll have to cast, explain, then leave in order to get to her next appointment. If you wanted her to be able to stay, we'll have to come back in four days."

"That's fine," she says quickly. "I need to know."

"Alright, Hawke," the paladin says softly. She looks around then, trying to decide where to sit.

"Here," Estelle says quickly, starting to stand despite Aveline protests.

"Estelle and Aveline on the bottom, then Hawke laying across them, then me on her?" Merrill suggests, getting dubious and somewhat wary looks from the drow and suli.

"It's fine. I... Maybe you could climb half into Estelle's lap?" Hawke suggests, changing course partway through her sentence. _I want to be near Aveline, she makes it easier to be brave._

"It's fine," Estelle echos. _She's Hawke's, she won't attack me. She won't. If Hawke can trust Grandmother because of you, you can trust Aveline because of Hawke. Or something like that._ Sitting back down, she pulls Hawke up a little and glances at Aveline.

The paladin nods gamely, willing to put up with being so close to a stranger for Hawke's sake, and takes a seat. She grabs Hawke's feet and pulls them onto her lap, then starts to work the merikos elfs shoes off for a foot rub. "How you holding up?" she ask gently.

Hawke waves a hand, dismissively. _I can't talk about it. I'll lose it again._

"Story time?" Merrill suggests as she cuddles into her Hawke-shaped pillow. Estelle starts running her fingers through Hawke's hair as she nods. "Of course. So... we left off with Zevran- your Zevran's grand-uncle," she supplies to Aveline, "returning to the Underdark after deciding he couldn't betray the elven noblewoman he'd fallen for..."

Fifty-five minutes later, there's a soft knock on the door, which opens after Aveline calls out a welcome. Bright Victoria takes in the scene before her with a startled, then very pleased expression. A paladin, an elf, a Light and a drow, all cuddled together and having a very peaceful, perhaps even loving, talk. "Good afternoon," the gnomish aasimar says in a soft, elven accent.

"Afternoon," she says rapidly, starting toward her feet but arresting her movement before she can dump Merrill. "Thank you so much for this, I know you're busy," she adds.

Victoria smiles warmly as she steps in. "For you, Brightness Hawke? It's no trouble. I just wish I could have freed up more time. I've wished to meet you for a while now but... Anyway, I'm pleased to be of service."

Merrill, somewhat belatedly, slips off Hawke and, blithely ignoring decorum, hugs the priestess happily. "Hello!"

Hawke coughs in surprise. "I am not ordained," she protests. "It's just Hawke. zi'Hawke if you feel fancy."

"And hello to you as well," the Bright says with a soft laugh, returning the hug. Looking over Merrill's shoulder, Victoria's smile turns amused. "True but from what I've heard, you prefer informality so I assumed you'd prefer the... more generic title. Alas, I do have to rush so... Shall we?" A beat, "and will all four of you be there for the summoning?"

Estelle makes uncertain noise, looking at Hawke. _I want to be there for you but... Will I... Would one of my kind even be welcome? This is Astea, not Vangal but..._

"Yes," Hawke says instantly. "More generic than what? There's no way Bright is short for Hero or Sage or..." She shakes her head. "Sorry. I get distracted."

"Very well," the Bright says easily. "If you and your companions could follow me then?" Estelle and Aveline both rise, and Merrill lets go of Victoria so they can follow.

Hawke stumbles to her feet, trailing after. _I'm no Outsider, so she can't mean that. So what... What does she mean? I'm no Oracle like Helene..._ Bright was properly the term for Astean clergy, but Astea was generous enough to allow it to be used for clergy and clergy-adjacent of all the Bright Gods; it was also used for pavitra, and the odd Tulwath or clergy of a neutral deity who didn't mind being referred to with good-aligned terms. But Hawke's magic is arcane, and she's as mortal as they come.

Victoria gives a clearly canned tour spiel as they head deeper into the temple. After a few moments, Aveline asks politely, "are we not going to the summoning chamber?"

"It's being used at the moment, actually. Which is strange, that ritual chamber is of limited use, I can't recall the last time there were two demands for its use on the same day, much less the same hour. So we're going to use the Sanctum instead."

"The... Sanctum?" Estelle asks nervously. "As in the heart, the most holy room in the temple?"

"I, wait, is that allowed?" Hawke nearly stumbles, mouth suddenly dry. In her mind, she sees a famous scene from _The Magic Lantern_ in which a huge puppet of a Pavitra looms over the protagonist and audience alike, a deep, projected voice crying out, 'How dare you invade this sacred Temple!' from offstage. You know. Just before the protagonist is devoured. "I can come back another day," she adds. "It's not an emergency."

"It is. In fact, you could say it was... requested, after a fashion," she replies airily, clearly amused at something. She opens a set of ivory doors, then gestures them all inside. "Please, enter and I'll be right back so we can get started."

"Okay, you know what, no," Hawke says, stopping in her tracks. "I'm a hero. In the business we have a saying: trust your gut. I have been fooled by one too many false priests to let that go. I'm going to need answers, or we're leaving." _I can't risk Merrill._

"Any question in particular you wanted answered, Illuminated Soul?" Victoria asks, unoffended. Aveline and Estelle both choke slightly and stare.

"uh, I feel like I should start with what the hell that is?" Hawke asks, blankly.

"It's what the Astean church calls people they think might be a _reincarnation of Astea_ ," Aveline says in a strangled voice.

"There are only three such alive currently in all of Aldis known to the church," Victoria adds helpfully.

"Ooh! You are an avatar of Astea!" Merrill chirrups brightly, beaming.

"I am not!" Hawke pales, her throat closing in the words. A moment later, the shock turns to anger: "I am **not**!" She shakes her head, balling her hands into fists. "How dare you? Astea is-- is so much more than-- to even imply that someone as fucked up as I am could even begin to-- " she shakes her head again. "This is flattery bordering on blasphemy!"

Victoria just continues to smile. "More than three quarters of all Illuminated Souls have been recorded as saying almost exactly the same thing when first they discovered their status," she notes. "But do keep in mind that each reincarnation is Astea, yes, but made flawed and mortal. That's the point after, all, for Her to learn what is like to be like us. Weak. Fallible. And by learning, by understanding, love us even more."

"I'm not just weak, Victoria, I'm--" She cuts off, muttering "[slag and mortar]" in Dwarven before starting again. "Did Aveline tell you why I need to summon a Pavitra?"

"You had a brush with a sceleratis and are worried it may have had lingering effects," Victoria replies. "She was very vague on details of any kind but I gathered it was..." the Bright purses her lips, then shrugs. "Sexual. By your reputation and distress, I would guess it was involuntary?"

"She didn't know what she- it- was," Estelle says softly, moving to take Hawke's hand.

"How can you hear about that and still think I might be-- that Astea _herself_ would.... with a _Demon_?! The literal incarnation of evil!"

"She..." Victoria pauses, glancing at the drow inquiringly.

"Lady Estelle. And it was as bound lilin, taking the form of a tiefling."

"Given what Lady Estelle explained... it was a mistake, not a willing act. Having yourself checked is wise, just in case, but there is no blemish on your soul for the deed itself," Victoria says firmly. "And please do recall that I am the head of the Nyran church of Astea before you dispute that," she adds wryly. "I do rather know what I'm talking about on the matter." She pauses, then adds, "and that's not the first time something of that nature has occurred. An Illuminated Soul some seven millenia ago, Brandis Silverarm, had a incubus lover for decades. He was aware of what the devil was but was trying to redeem the being." At Aveline's scoff, Victoria admits, "not the wisest plan, nor did it succeed, but he meant well... I can recall another- though not the name- that was best friends with a lich. That one ended much better..."

"Well there you have it, then," Hawke snaps. "I'm not loving enough to be Astea. Let's just get this over with."

All three of her Clan present scoff (or giggle, in Merrill's case). Even Victoria gives Hawke a look.

"I could never love a lich. Or a demon."

"Or a drow?" Estelle says softly.

She holds up a finger. "That's different. Extremely different."

"Hawke, if Varric decided, 'you know what? Lich. I feel like being a lich now' then you'd cheerfully help him... find a coffin to replace his bed with," Aveline says bluntly. "The devil thing... okay, but I doubt this Silverarm fellow had a sibling killed in front of him by a sceleratis?"

Victoria shakes her head. "Almost the opposite. While the incubus was pretending to be mortal, when they were children- or appearing as a child anyway- it saved the life of his best friend. It was almost a decade later when the devil was revealed, and Silverarm did take a year to decide he would accept him still in his life."

"I would not," Hawke says to Aveline, quietly. "I would stop him. I would not-- I could never..." She takes a deep breath, letting the anger flow out of her. "Not a lich. Maybe a vampire, but not a lich."

Aveline winces. "Okay... maybe not lich, given... that. But my point stands."

"That event did cause some consternation. It was almost pure Astea, giving your life for love and life, but at the same time... there's a rather fierce debate on whether a reincarnation could be resurrected," Victoria admits. "It was, mostly, decided it's possible, but we can't really know... unless we get proof you are Her, in which case, congratulations on settling a several thousand year old argument," she finishes with a laugh.

"Look," she says, with a sigh. "Assuming you're right about remaining untainted, I'd be happy to stop by sometime and give you a full accounting of that adventure and maybe a few other. I'm sure I'll get knocked right off your list. But for now, I know you're a busy person, I don't want to spend all day arguing about this... this blatant absurdity. In the meantime... is that all you were being cagy about? Or was there something particular about my coming here today and asking for this particular favor?"

"I'm not, actually. Busy, I mean. Well, not as much as I made out to be earlier, just a budget meeting. But it's forbidden to approach an Illuminated Soul until they have made direct contact with the church, which is also why I was, as you say, being cagey. Today, as far I know, is not special aside from it being the day you made contact with us," Victoria explains. "Astea reincarnates for a reason each time and we try not to disrupt Her. But I gather you'd like to move along so..." She bows, then moves to depart.

Hawke follows after, deep in thought as she chews her lower lip. _That was probably a bit mean but... I can't even... wait until Varric hears this. He'll laugh himself sick._ She feels a little better picturing her Papa laughing, picturing laughing along with him. _He knows me better than to believe any of this crap._

The Sanctum is... amazing. Massive stained glass windows of both pictures and abstract designs both. Planters filled with beautiful flowers. A massive symbol of Astea worked into the tile floor. The focal point, however, is obviously the ten foot tall marble statue of a winged woman of vague features holding what appears to be a real enchanted glaive sized for the statue. The detailwork of her armour, dress, wings and everything but her face is incredible. Above the statue is a glowing orb that radiates sunlight the same as the most wonderful of summer suns.

"So... that was... unexpected?" Estelle asks, voice a little strained.

"Not really," Merrill says casually.

"Incredibly," Hawke argues, her eyes tearing up a little. _That orb... Astea... please, I rarely ask you for much, please don't abandon me. Please let me redeem myself._

Aveline wraps her arms around Hawke. "Whatever comes, I shall be with you," she whispers. "Astea or not, you are _my_ Personification of Love."

"How is finding out your lover- your _wife_ no less- might be an actual **goddess** not surprising?" Estelle demands.

"She's Hawke," Merrill replies sounding baffled it's something that can be questioned.

"I've always been Merrill's stars, being literally the one who made them isn't that big a stretch for her," adds Hawke, absently. She takes a deep breath. "Let's just do this, before I lose my nerve."

Merrill nods absently, moving to the center of the room and spinning around and around. She laughs gaily. "It's so pretty!" she calls out, sounding a little giddy.

Aveline frowns, then sighs. "Hawke, auras," she murmurs, letting her amata go to corral the shaman.

_Oh, right._ "Sorry, she's a shaman," she says to Estelle. "Merrill, sweetie," she begins, chasing after her wife.

Ten minutes later, Victoria finishes chanting with a soaring finale. Merrill is currently being hugged (held still) by Aveline, with Estelle absolutely not hiding behind them both. Just... making sure that the pavitra has a chance to get its bearing before it spots the drow. And has to blast a Vangalite paladin too. Hawke, as the petitioner, is standing across from Victoria, facing the statue.

A wash of gold light spirals around the circle, flares up, then streams past Victoria. Who looks very surprised by all this. Which is fair, because that's not how summoning rituals work. Behind the Bright, the statue lets out a long, pleased sigh and flexes her wings. "GREETINGS. PLEASED IS THIS ONE TO SEE YOU ALL IN FLESH. THIS ONE IS ADORATION, HERALD OF ASTEA. BUT, PLEASE, CALL THIS ONE ANDRASTE."

Andraste. As in the personal messenger of Astea. Not the most powerful agent of the goddess, by a sizable margin to be honest, with even the weakest of angels being more dangerous in direct combat. But Heralds are more, much more, than mere combatants. They're the personal agent of their deity, their most direct means of interacting with the mortal plane.

"Hello! I'm Merrill!" the elf calls out happily.

Estelle whimpers and gives up any pretense by stepping directly behind Aveline, who, in turn is just staring in awed wonder.

Hawke takes a step back, eyes wide. She takes another, then drops to one knee, bowing her head. "Blessed be those who love, for they have seized heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they have known love," she murmurs, awestruck. _Prayers are much, much safer than words right now._

Victoria slowly turns to stare at the statue, mouth open a bit. "Lady Andraste," she breaths in wonder, bowing deeply.

Andraste laughs, the sound a wonder. She moves towards Hawke, her form flowing into the shape of a winged merikos elf of normal size as she does so. Strangely, her beauty is... neutral, somehow. Incredible yes, but despite how flawless, how striking, her appearance, there's no attraction. The beauty is that of a sunset, the moon reflected in a pristine lake, a heartrending ballad. Her features are still vague, undefined, but it's still entirely possible to read her expression somehow.

She passes by Victoria with quicksilver smile and a wink, then kneels in front of Hawke. "THERE IS NO NEED FOR YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, TO KNEEL TO THIS ONE, LITTLE SISTER."

"Wh-what is that supposed t--" She swallows the end of the sentence, ducking her head again, blushing faintly. "Holy One, Brightness, I have... there has... am I... under sway of a sceleratis?" _This sounds so stupid right now. I can't believe I'm wasting Andraste's time with this. Fuck me, fuck me a hundred times over._

"YOUR SOUL BELONGS TO YOU AND YOU ALONE, LITTLE SISTER." Andraste leans forward to hug Hawke, the feel of her flesh both cool marble and sun-kissed flesh. ~THIS ONE IS AFRAID THAT SUCH ACTIONS ARE FORBIDDEN, BUT WE COULD CUDDLE IF YOU LIKE?~ Giggling softly at Hawke's expression, she kisses Hawke gently on the forehead. Was that aloud? That last bit had sounded different, and she'd been kissing Hawke for the end of it...

Hawke tears herself free, stepping back again. _No. I'm dreaming. This isn't happening, can't be happening. Astea's tits, what have I gotten myself into? I-- I feel like I'm panicking, but I can't quite manage to-- Aveline. Aveline's with me, that's why I-- or is it Andraste? Breathe, Hawke. Focus. Think it through. You're not under sway of a lilin. Unless you're dreaming. Well, if you are, you'll handle it when you wake up. You're not under sway. You can handle it. Astea still loves you. Merrill still loves you. Aveline still loves you. Estelle still... thinks of you fondly. Shit, Estelle!_ She glances behind her, looking for Estelle. "Estelle, it's fine, it's--" She glances back to Andraste. "Tell her you're fine with drow? Astea loves drow too, right?"

"SHE THAT IS ASTEA LOVES," Andraste corrects Hawke. "NO SPECIFICATION IS NEEDED OR ACCEPTABLE." A pause, then the Herald adds, "BUT SHE THAT IS ASTEA IS ADMITTEDLY PARTICULARLY FOND OF THE SPECIFIC MORTAL YOU ARE REFERRING TO, LITTLE SISTER."

Estelle lets out a squeak at that little tidbit, but manages to muster up the nerve to peek around Aveline. "Th-thank you?"

"THANK YOU FOR LOVING THIS ONE'S LITTLE SISTER."

"Brightest Herald, may... may I ask why you call Hawke by that... designation?" Aveline asks, voice firm and carrying but very, very respectful.

"BECAUSE SHE IS THE LITTLE SISTER OF THIS ONE," Andraste replies teasingly, then laughs merrily. "MY APOLOGIES FOR THE JEST. THIS ONE IS SAD TO SAY THAT LITTLE SISTER IS NOT SHE THAT IS ASTEA REBORN, BUT INSTEAD HER FAVORED AND CHOSEN CHAMPION." She pauses, then adds soberly, "SHOULD LITTLE SISTER WISH TO ACCEPT THAT BURDEN."

"I-- I'm not Astea," Hawke repeats, dazed. "But... something..." She takes a deep breath. "What would that burden entail?" _This is more familiar ground. Being a hero is part of who I am; it changes little to make thing more official. Maybe Merrill will understand when I have to leave her, if I do this. And.. it'd be good to know I'm doing Astea's will._

"LOVE."

Such a simple word, on the surface. But when Andraste says it, it means more. It means to love without flinching, without boundaries. It means to love without regrets, without ego. It means to love without prejudice, without expectation. It... honestly means that Hawke needs to be Hawke. So maybe it really is that simple.

Hawke nods, slowly. "Love even those who are flawed. Love even those who are evil. Love even those who are..." She takes a deep breath. "Not Scelerati?" she asks quietly. "Is that alright? Tieflings, yes, but..."

Andraste wrinkles her nose. "WELL... THAT WOULD BE NICE BUT PERFECTION IS NOT EXPECTED. AND IT WOULD BE PREFERRED IF YOU WERE HAPPY AND... ALIVE." Hawke gets the impression that Andraste rather supports her reluctance to love sceleratii to be honest. "THIS ONE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT THE LIFE THAT WAS SILVERARM WAS WONDROUS BUT IT WAS... ALSO VERY PAINFUL TO WATCH," Andraste admits in a near whisper.

Aveline and Estelle both let out relieved sighs at this reply, though for slightly different reasons. The drow has less dislike for sceleratii than anyone else here, though she's not exactly fond of them by any means. Still, she's very glad that Hawke is going to be expected to break herself for this. Aveline feels much the same but is also glad she's not going to have to tolerate Hawke having incarnations of evil concepts as friends or worse.

"Anything else that is needed? Will you be asking me to... take on particular challenges? Or just leaving it to me to decide?" Hawke's voice is still quiet, still awed, but more.. confident, if nothing else.

"NOT BLATANTLY, NO. BUT BE OBSERVANT, FOR CHANCES TO FURTHER OUR CAUSES, TO SERVE LOVE AND LIFE, BEAUTY AND GOODNESS, WILL ARISE." She pauses to give Hawke a gentle squeeze. "IN TRUTH, LITTLE SISTER, THERE IS NO NEED FOR GILDED WORD OR BLAZING SIGN FOR ONE SUCH AS YOURSELF. IF YOU WERE NOT ONE THAT WOULD DO HER WILL OF YOUR OWN VOLITION, THEN YOU WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN CHOSEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. YOU ARE NOT SHE THAT IS ASTEA REBORN, BUT YOU ARE HER DAUGHTER A TOUCH MORE CLOSELY THAN MOST."

Hawke swallows, mouth dry. "What-- what does that-- what does that _mean_?"

"THIS ONE IS NOT CERTAIN WHAT YOUR QUESTION IS?" Andraste admits.

"She's asking- I mean- is- is Hawke a... demigod? Is Astea her... ah, direct mother or...?" Aveline asks, mind nearly locking up at the idea of Leandra being Astea. Or even a descendant of Astea to be honest. It could be Malcom but even that is... no.

"AH! YOU SPEAK OF BLOOD! NO, THE SHELL OF HAWKE IS MORTAL PURE. HER SOUL, HOWEVER..." The Herald smiles broadly. "THIS ONE WAS NOT BEING METAPHORICAL IN NAMING HAWKE LITTLE SISTER. WELL. POSSIBLY. PROBABLY? TIME IS FLUID AND THAT WHICH IS KNOWN CAN CHANGE. BUT SHOULD FATE CONTINUE IN THE DIRECTION PREDICTED, HAWKE SHALL ONE DAY SERVE AT MY SIDE..."

Outsiders are created either by a deity crystallizing a concept that lies within their domains into a being or from souls of mortals that were exemplars of a similar concept. It... almost sounds like Andraste is suggesting Astea plans on giving Hawke the chance to become a pavitra after death, provided things continue roughly in the direction they have been. And.... maybe to become Andraste's assistant or something?

~THIS ONE MUST CAUTION LITTLE SISTER THAT ONE THAT SPURS THEIR LIFE FOR BASE REASONS CANNOT BE SO BLESSED.~

_Spurs their... She's talking about suicide._ There's a black pit in Hawke's stomach. _If I kill myself, I can't ascend. Is that why Mileen gave me another chance? Because I almost ruined things?_

~TO DIE FOR LOVE, FOR LIFE, IS NOT... DESIRED BUT IT IS UNDERSTOOD. BETTER TO LIVE FOR LOVE AND LIFE. THIS ONE IS AGELESS AND ETERNAL AND HAPPY TO WAIT. LITTLE SISTER SHOULD ENJOY HER MORTALITY FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE. BEING WHAT THIS ONE IS IS... DIVINE, BUT THERE IS NOTHING LIKE MORTALITY.~ So saying, Andraste taps Hawke on the nose rather playfully.

_So if I die to save people, even if I technically do it myself, I'm alright. But if I..._ She doesn't, can't, complete the thought with anything other than a memory: the feel of a carving knife in her hand, the grip sure and steady in a world that no longer makes sense.

~CORRECT. LITTLE SISTER IS A HERO AND CANNOT ABIDE THAT WHICH WOULD BEFOUL LOVE AND LIFE. THIS IS PLEASING AND UNDERSTOOD. BUT LITTLE SISTER SHOULD VALUE HER **OWN** LIFE AND LOVE AS WELL..~ Andraste then blushes, looking slightly bashful. ~ALSO THIS ONE ENJOYS WATCHING LITTLE SISTER'S LIFE AND WOULD NOT WISH IT TO END UNTIL IT TRULY MUST. YOUR CLAN IS A MARVEL.~

"It... it is?" she asks, forgetting that she wasn't speaking aloud before. "My-- is there any advice you can give for my Clan? For how to keep this functional? I don't want to hurt anyone on accident."

Merrill squirms in Aveline's grasp, trying to talk despite the hand over her mouth. "Is she really getting relationship advice from a _Herald_?" Estelle hisses in disbelief, getting a snort from Aveline. "Of course she is," the paladin says with a sigh.

Andraste cocks her head to the side, considering it. "UPHOLD YOUR VALUES, THEY ARE GOOD FOUNDATIONS FOR LOVE. PROMOTE MORE LOVE. YOU HAVE BEGUN THIS," she says, glancing at Aveline and Merrill pointedly. "BUT THE MORE LOVE THAT EXISTS AMONG YOUR CLAN, THE GREATER ITS STRENGTH. FOR A SPECIFIC TASK... HMMM. YOU WOULD DO WELL TO PICK UP A HOBBY. SOMETHING CREATIVE PERHAPS?"

_A... hobby. Alright. I can do that._ "Thank you, Herald. Brightness. I-- how should I address you?" _This is all so mad, like a dream or..._

"SISTER?"

_Holy shit that feels disrespectful. No, think of it like a title, like Bright._ "Alright, Sister Andraste." _I hope that was right?_

The Herald huffs a little. "THIS ONE WOULD BE PLEASED, NOT DISRESPECTED TO BE CALLED SIMPLY 'SISTER' BY YOU, BUT IF THAT IS NOT COMFORTABLE, PERHAPS SIMPLY ANDRASTE?" she asks, sounding rather hopeful. "OR PERHAPS EVEN ANDY?"

Victoria makes a soft choking noise, almost inaudible over the whispery rustling of Andraste's wings.

"You can't be Andy. There's already an Andy." Hawke sounds distant, like she might be going into shock.

Andraste nods slowly. "THAT IS TRUE. RASTE?" She hums softly, thinking, then wrinkles her nose. "OR PERHAPS ANDRA?" Victoria makes a soft whining noise.

"Hawke," Aveline hisses. Hey, been a while since the last one of those. Hawke is pretty sure that one meant 'what even is your life?'

"Andra. Sure. My sister Andra. I have a sister, again." Yup, definitely shocky.

Andra studies Hawke for a moment, expression worried. She pulls Hawke closer, wings coming around to embrace her as well. Warmth floods the merikos elf. Not just physical, though she does feel as if she's basking warm spring sunshine after a freezing night. But it's also emotional warmth, a feeling that one is _loved_ and also that one _can_ love. And for a minute, just for a minute, Hawke has no doubt, no fears, no disbelief. She just has love.

Hawke's eyes brim with tears of joy. She expresses this the only way she knows how: she reaches up and presses a tender, passionate kiss to Andra's lips.

"You can't-" Victoria blurts out in s sharp voice before falling silent abruptly.

Andra doesn't really kiss back, exactly. It's not that she pulls away, mind you, but she s rather passive in her reaction to the kiss. As point of fact, she seems rather... awkward. Clumsy almost. As if she's not sure what to do about this. It's a bit strange for Hawke as well, as despite the love blazing inside her, she's not aroused at all. It's as if something about Andra quiets that reaction, that feeling.

When Hawke pulls away, Andra stares at Hawke for a moment. "HUH."

Estelle bites her lip, trying very hard to drive the mental image of fucking Hawke blind and limp on the floor of the temple throbs behind her eyes. Not so much because of Andraste, but because Hawke kissing her is reminding her about watching Hawke make out with Maeve. Merrill is smiling broadly, muffled giggles coming from behind Aveline's hand.

Who in turn is muttering a prayer under her breath: specifically, Vangal's oath of devotion and protection to Astea.

"Good huh or bad huh?" she asks, reaching up to brush her hand along the side of Andraste's cheek tenderly.

"NEW HUH. NOT BAD HUH. I'VE NEVER BEEN KISSED IN THAT MANNER BEFORE. I LIKED THE INTENT BEHIND IT," Andra assures Hawke. "TOUCH- AND SEX- ARE LINKED VERY CLOSELY IN YOUR HEART. SHE THAT IS CIREN HAS TEASED SHE THAT IS ASTEA ABOUT THAT A FEW TIMES."

_She?_ wonders Hawke. "Touch -- sex -- is the main way I relate to my partners. I don't always have words for... for something like that in my heart, but I can pour my feelings out into a kiss." She rests her head gently against Andraste's chest. "Do you have people to hold you like this up in Nirvana?"

"SHE THAT IS ASTEA." Well, if you're going to get hugged... "ALSO THEY THAT IS CIREN, HE THAT IS BASTION AND SHE THAT IS VALSHATHE." She giggles lightly. "AND HE THAT IS VANGAL, IF I CAN CATCH HIM OFF GUARD." She leans in to finish with a whisper and a sly glance at Aveline. "HE TRIES TO ACT STERN BUT HE LIKES HUGS TOO. AND MANY OF THE OTHER HERALDS OR PAVITRA ARE HAPPY TO HUG, MUCH LIKE THOSE THEY SERVE. THOSE OF HE THAT IS NAUGRIX, SHE THAT IS MILEEN, THEY THAT IS TEIRIS AND HE THAT IS ZANON ALSO OFTEN LIKES HUGS." She wrinkles her nose. "THIS ONE WILL ADMIT THAT WHILE HE THAT IS ZANON IS ACCEPTABLE, MANY OF THAT ARE HIS ARE LESS LIKED."

_Oh. Of course. She gets hugs from gods. That's. Something._ Hawke sighs, nuzzling closer to Andraste. _This is nice. I could stay like this for a while. Just being loved._

"-mmm we hug too?" Merrill finally manages to sneak out after distracting Aveline by reaching back and pinching her bum.

"YES OF COURSE."

Merrill scampers over, dragging drow and paladin with her thanks to their shock (and well-hidden desires to join the hugging anyway). After a moment, Victoria gives in as well, joining the pile. Five minutes later, Andra sighs. "ALAS, THIS ONE MUST DEPART. TIME IS MUTABLE FOR THIS ONE, BUT ONLY TO A DEGREE."

"Can I see you again?" asks Hawke, before she can think better of it.

"THIS ONE ASSUMES YOU MEAN IN LIFE?" Andraste is quiet a moment, gaze fixed on something off to the side. "THIS ONE... IF THINGS PROGRESS AS HOPED, THIS ONE WILL VISIT WHEN TWO ARRIVE."

"...what?" she asks, blankly. "I meant like, I could try to summon you again or something." She shakes her head. "You're probably busy, I'm sorry."

"THIS ONE CANNOT BE SUMMONED. THIS ONE CAME OF ONE'S OWN ACCORD. BUT... IF LITTLE SISTER PRAYS, THIS ONE WILL HEAR. NO PROMISES CAN BE MADE, BUT THIS ONE WILL TRY."

Hawke nods. "If I ever really need you, I'll ask. Thank you, sister."

Andraste beams at Hawke, then almost timidly leans into kiss Hawke on the lips. "...SO STRANGE. BUT... NICE," she finally decides. Shifting a little, she prompts everyone to start letting go.

"It was very nice to met you, sister-electi," Merrill says a little tearfully. Estelle nods jerkily, blushing a fair bit.

"Yes, this was... incredible," Aveline admits.

"IT WAS GOOD TO MET YOU ALL AS WELL..." Andraste pauses, then adds, "HE THAT IS VANGAL SPEAKS OF YOU WITH PRIDE, MY SISTER'S SHIELD. I DO NOT KNOW, BUT STRONGLY SUSPECT I SHALL WORK WITH YOU IN TIME AS WELL. GRAND DEFENDER WOULD HAVE LIKED TO BE HERE AS WELL BUT THIS ONE IS ALREADY INTERFERING MORE THAN NORMALLY ALLOWED."

Hawke pulls just a little away from Andraste, smiling proudly at Aveline. "Of course he does. Aveline's wonderful. Just like Merrill and Estelle."

Estelle whimpers softly at the idea of the Grand Defender being in the same _city_ as her. She's willing to trust that Aveline isn't about to attack her but... Aveline swallows thickly. "T-th-thank you," she forces out.

Giving Hawke one last squeeze, Andra disengages from the hug and steps back to the pedestal in the back of room. She stops a moment to hug Victoria, kiss her forehead and whisper something to the priestess. That done, the pavitra surges upwards, regaining her full size and vague appearance, as she steps on the pedestal. She plucks up the glaive, which had been hanging in midair very patiently. "LOVE WELL. LIVE WELL."

"May you love and be loved in return," says Hawke, with a soft smile. _So glad I paid attention at temple when I was young._

Andraste beams at them all, then goes still, once again an ordinary, if beautiful, marble statue.

"...I have no idea how I'm going to explain why the statue is blowing a kiss now," Victoria says faintly. "Though I suppose it is a form of proof that this all just happened..."

Hawke blinks a few times, rubbing at her temple. "I... I need to go lie down," she says, her voice faint.

"Of course, of course. We have rooms for visiting officials and such, your guests can stay in them, and there's a suite already prepared for you of course. I imagine you'd like to wait until tomorrow, perhaps during morning service, to be announced?" Victoria asks with a warm smile.

"A-- what?!" she blinks, shaking her head. "Oh no. No no no. You are not telling anyone about-- about any of this!" She pauses, then reconsiders. "You can tell people Andraste visited but nothing about me."

Victoria looks shocked, then crushed. "But- but why? Why wouldn't you want to tell people about the honor granted to you?" she asks. "The joy and-"

"She said no," Aveline snaps, moving to stand between Hawke and Victoria.

Hawke holds up a hand. "Please, Aveline. Listen, we can talk about it another day, okay? Maybe I'll feel differently once I've rested and eaten." _And cuddled._

"Of course, I didn't mean to press, I... I suppose I'm feeling..." Victoria makes a somewhat wild gesture, partially in the direction of the statue.

Aveline takes a deep breath, then nods. "My apologies. I'm feeling very..."

"Vangally?" Merrill suggests.

"....very funny Merrill. Hawke, would you like to stay at the temple? My place? Varric's?"

"Your place. The temple is nice, but I want... I want to be with you tonight, like we promised." A pause, then she turns to Merrill and Estelle. "Can we... can you let me tell people about this in my own time? Tell them I'm not tainted, fine, but..."

Estelle nods quickly. "Like hells I'm going to explain this," she says firmly.

Hawke winces, then turns to glance at Merrill.

"Okay," Merrill says brightly, eyes glazed a bit. "Imma fuck Zevran until I goo," she adds perkily.

Estelle gives that a very interested look, then pouts after a second's thought. _No... tomorrow night for sure. Even if I have to kidnap them all._ Aveline rolls her eyes and gives a bow to Victoria. "Sorry. Her shamanic abilities can leave her a bit overwhelmed when around divinity. I think we should get everyone home before they crash however."

"Very well. I'll be in touch sometime later this week," she promises Hawke.

"Sure." _We'll see._ "Shall we?" Hawke links arms with Aveline, smiling at her date.


	10. Poor Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout continues.

By the time they get to Aveline's, Hawke's preternatural calm has worn off. She spends much of the next hour pacing, talking and gesturing, repeatedly digging into _How did my life get here_ and _ANDRASTE HERSELF!_ and _What does that even MEAN!_ They open a bottle of wine; out of a desperate attempt to get her mind to shut up, Hawke ends up taking Aveline to bed before it's halfway drained.

Much calmer, they cook together, finishing the wine and keeping their minds firmly off the earlier events. After dinner, Aveline reads from a novel while Hawke cuddles up to Beka, cooing over what a good dog she is. As the evening wears down, they make love once more, Hawke falling asleep curled up to Aveline's side in an unusually vulnerable position.

Maybe that's what wakes Aveline. Or maybe she just knows Hawke well enough by now to wake instinctively at two in the morning, checking for her. Either way, she's halfway awake before Hawke starts moving, sliding toward the edge of the bed to sneak off...

It's strange really. What had transpired this afternoon had... floored her. It was perhaps the most transcendental experience of her life, even more than taking her vows, even more than the evening she cracked the gem. She'd been almost completely useless, only able to half-heartedly try and keep Merrill from acting out- and even in that she'd slipped near the end, though thankfully not to ill results. But as the evening wore on, as Hawke got more and more wound up, Aveline had... settled. Something about watching Hawke, seeing her at turns blazing with energy and light and then fumbling and awkward, had... given her clarity.

_I've been doubting myself more and more in the past few years. As I came to realize just how important Hawke is, just what I'd give up, what I'd do for her... How could I be a paladin of Vangal, sworn to him, when I would do anything for her? How could I be a Captain of Nyra, sworn to law and justice, when I would do anything for her? But... in a sense, that's okay now. Sure, it's still... murky. Still a narrow path to walk. But in the end... I am as Vangal, sworn to my Astea. My Astea blessed Astea. It might not be completely in line with the tenants of the church and certainly doesn't follow the laws of Nyra, but, in the end... I am Hawke's sworn shield. Even Vangal can't really fault me for cleaving to that. But, speaking of taking care of my own personal Astea..._

"Hawke."

Aveline's Astea flinches. "Just going to the bathroom," she says, her tone far too alert to have just woken up.

"Hawke..."

She sighs. "What do you want from me?" she asks, quietly. "It's been a big day. I've unwound as much as I can. I even got some sleep. And now... I can't sleep anymore."

"We can talk. We can... make love again." _To be honest, I'm not really... in the mood for more sex but I wouldn't turn her down. Particularly if she lets me pin her hands again, that was new and... interesting._ "We could get out some cards, go for a walk, have a spar, play with Beka... but don't go off and brood."

"I don't always brood, you know." _If I'm not getting up..._ She slides back closer to Aveline, resting her head gently on Aveline's large, comfortable shoulder. "I go for walks. I try to keep busy."

"You should try to keep busy with someone. You... you're better with people," Aveline says gently, pulling Hawke close and rubbing her back soothingly. And with Aveline, it really is just soothing.

Hawke sighs. "I guess I am. It just seems so selfish to wake you. You've had a long day too."

"I'd rather a minute with you than an hour of sleep," she says softly, then blushes a little.

"You know, that's a lot sweeter if you're not a Paladin," she points out, snuggling up so she can drape her arm across Aveline's stomach.

Aveline scowls lightly. "Not every paladin has that Mercy," she protests lamely. "Brat."

"No, but you do, oh guardian mine," she laughs.

"Forever," Aveline promises, pulling her in so she can kiss Hawke on the forehead. "Forever yours."

Hawke sighs happily, falling silent as she cuddles up close to her guardian. After a little while, Aveline sighs. "So... about this afternoon. In the kitchen," she says quietly, never halting her slow, gentle stroking of Hawke's back.

For a moment she considers asking, 'what about it', but no, she knows what. _The knife._ "I... I panicked," she whispers.

"Is... is that... all it was? I mean... have you... ever..." _My voice doesn't seem to work. I can't... get words out._ Aveline shudders a little. _This evening... I'm glad she was so distracted that she didn't notice me keeping her from cutting anything when we made dinner. At least, I don't think she noticed._

"No," she says quietly. She almost leaves it there, but... "Thought that I'd be better off.. maybe. Wished I was never born." She sighs, closing her eyes. "I scared myself, too. I didn't think that kind of despair was in me. That I could ever give up like that. But... I knew... I thought, I really thought, that I must have... I couldn't put you, put Varric, put Merrill in that kind of danger. To have you love me, trust me, and to know I was.... overshadowed..."

Aveline shudders. "I protect _you_ ," she says fiercely. "Don't- don't ever do that again. Don't.... sacrifice yourself, throw yourself away, just because of a _chance_. Trust us to help you, to fix things."

"At the time, I was sure." She swallows. "And I was wrong. Thank Astea, thank all that's holy, I was wrong. I think I might have been in shock. I wasn't rational. I would never do that to you otherwise. After... after all I've put you through," she chickens out, "I swore I'd do what I could to ensure that never happened again. That I wouldn't put you through that again. Even if I was sure, even if I had it confirmed that was the only thing I could do... if I was rational, I'd have swallowed my fear, have waited until I could get away from you. Have written a farewell letter. Have done _right_ by you."

Aveline hisses, eyes glinting with... well, to be honest, with fury. She rolls, pinning Hawke underneath her greater mass. " _Right by me_?" she demands. "How fucking dare you? Do you think I'd- that I would just- I would storm the very throne of Sirena if I had to to get you back and fuck you for doubting it."

Hawke's eyes widen, and she shrinks back, away from Aveline. "Aveline..." she whispers, mouth dry.

Aveline shudders, then almost collapses against Hawke. "...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I felt my heart shatter." She rolls off Hawke, staring up at the ceiling.

"I can't promise to never leave you. I'm a hero. But I can promise to try. I know it's not... it's not right, what I tried to do. I would never do that if I was myself. Can you... trust that at least?"

"Swear it," Aveline whispers.

"I swear," she says, without the slightest hesitation.

"Okay," Aveline says after a moment, tilting her head just a little so she can see Hawke out of the corner of her right eye."Okay. I... okay." Despite the darkness, Hawke's elven blood allows the faint moonlight coming in the window to reveal the tears dripping down Aveline's cheeks onto the pillow.

Hawke rolls onto her side, pressing a gentle kiss to the outside corner of her lover's eye, where the tears gather. "I'm sorry I scared you. Sorrier that I hurt you."

"...I gave you a scare as well," Aveline says softly. "Not nearly as bad, I think but... I'm sorry too." Her head tilts a little more, so she can really look at Hawke. "Never leave me." Before Hawke can protest, Aveline presses on. "Even if- if you die, come back if you're offered. If you can't come back, then... then take the other offer. I'll... I'll follow. I'll do what I need to in order to stay your shield, even in death, forever and ever."

"I will come back as long as I can," she swears. "As for the other, I... I have no idea, Aveline, I don't. What if I screw that up? What if I--" She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "If I can, I will. Life, love, is always worth it."

"You won't," Aveline says softly. Her eyes are still wet, but she's smiling now. "I don't think you can. You're... this isn't something offered because of some quirk of fate or chance. You're not just in the right place or born under a lucky star. This is being offered to you because of who you are. Your heart is... everything you are makes you worthy of that offer. It's not one thing you can mess up- or a dozen things. It's you. _Being you_."

_Be glad you can't see the inside of my head, dear one._ She smiles. "I hope so." Now she rolls over, on top of Aveline, giving her a long, slow kiss; when she breaks it, she pulls back and wiggles her eyebrows twice, deliberately.

Aveline considers it a moment, then bites her lip. "Can I... be on top again? And..." She flushes a little, not sure how to ask 'can I pin you to the bed or maybe more while I make long, slow love to you?' without actually saying any of that.

"You can have me any way you want me, my love," she says, smirking. "On top, below, tied to the bed, begging for mercy..."

Rather tellingly, Aveline's breath hitches and her hands tighten on Hawke's hips at 'tied to the bed.' Flush deepening, the paladin says quickly, "you know I'm not... interesting like that," with a hint of bitterness in her voice she doesn't seem to notice.

"Neither was I. I learned." She shrugs. "You'll always be enough. But if you want to try more..."

"Do... do you really... I'm prudish and reserved and I just- how can I compare with-"

Hawke kisses her briefly to silence her. "You're mine. I love you. Nothing you are could ever be not enough for me." She pauses, frowning, unwinding the sentence. "What you are is enough. You're stalwart, protective, fierce, brave. It's not about sex games, not really. I just need to touch the people I love, to remind myself they're real and they love me back."

"I... I know. Most of the time," Aveline says softly. She bites her lip, then musters her nerve. "I... did like, earlier, when I... was pinning your hands to the bed. Just... having you under me, moving against my body, unable to touch me. I- not the begging, just... holding you in place. I don't..." She runs out of courage, unable to keep forcing out words.

"That sounds fun," she encourages, going in for another kiss.

\---

Of necessity, they remain in bed far into the morning, cuddling and dozing. When they do rise next, it's together; they pull together some breakfast, enjoying the rare chance to spend a morning together.

Hawke departs eventually, heading by one of her bookshops before she heads to Varric's house. He might be at his office, but she doubts it. After the day she had yesterday, he's likely to have brought his work home in the hopes she'll stop by.

She lets herself in, heads for his home office, and tosses a wrapped book on top of the pile of papers he's set up with, smiling. "I brought you something more interesting to entertain yourself with," she says, by way of greeting.

Varric studies her, not bothering to hide it for once. After nearly half a minute, he nods once, then reaches for the book as if he wasn't just staring at her intently. "You eat already?" he asks in a normal, everyday tone as he inspects the book.

"Yes, Papa. As wonderful as your cooking is, I've eaten." She keeps the smile on her face, but his scrutiny unnerved her. _I guess he liked what he saw,_ she decides, heading to fix herself a drink. The book appears to be a book of puzzles: a particular variant on a crossword where the answers are all numbers, meaning there's both math and logic involved.

"Got a new drink in," he calls after her. "Red bottle, bottom shelf. Berry made alcohol, not wine." _Hmmm. Interesting idea... clever use of algebra really. It's basically just your basic multiple expressions (Hawke looks good) with shared variables but in a new format. Nice twist... Wonder if there's a (nervous about something though) geometry edition? Oh wait, some of the clues are word problems and others are logical (rested, real rest, not just magic) puzzles with numerical answers. Even better. Huh. Who wrote- ah, a dwarf, naturally (Hawke could have done it better if she wanted)._

"Ah, perfect." She pours herself a glass of the berry stuff, coming back to sit on his loveseat casually: one arm draped along the back of the loveseat, her butt in the corner, so she can sip her glass and watch his face. "I asked Mikey what the best puzzle book we had was. I guess it's called a cross-number? I figure when you're done shouting at me, we could work a few of them together."

"Sounds good," he agrees, setting the book aside for now. "So..."

She waves a hand, as though ceding the floor to a fellow Light. "Shout away."

"Nah, you go first. I wanna hear your side of things," Varric says easily. "Very curious to hear your explanation."

_I'm apparently fucking blessed by Astea._ She shrugs. "Yesterday sucked."

He glances at her. "Seems like it ended well enough. Start at lunch, walk us through it," her father orders, slipping into dwarven.

She pulls a grimace, but she doesn't try to argue, changing language along with him. _Maybe I should do something with language for that hobby Andraste mentioned..._ "It was up there in the list of worst moments of my life. As you probably guessed, I... I did quite a bit with that lilin. Including... games that play at being agreements, negotiations. I thought... I was sure... that I had been.." She swallows, taking a deep breath. "I was sure I belonged to her now. That I was a danger to my Clan."

"And you being you, decided to... spare us," Varric says, voice empty of any emotion or inflection.

She nods. "That and..." Her voice drops to just above a whisper. "Bethany." She shakes her head, trying to force more sense out of her lips. "It was.. you recall when.. when Merrill.. and I just-- I went away. I had to take care of things, and they were unpleasant, so I locked myself away and did what I thought had to be done."

"Did you- do you realize, now, that you had more options than that to keep us safe? That killing yourself would have simply put your soul directly into the devil's hands, making it ten times harder to save you? That every one of us would have done whatever was needed, even died, even attack the hells themselves, to get your soul back from that? So that by _killing yourself_ , you would have only put us in more danger?" Varric asks relentlessly, a mostly hidden but still present film of disgust present for those two words.

She bows her head, the tears coming to her eyes. "I didn't think it through," she admits quietly. "Now, I see-- even if I thought you wouldn't save me, even if I thought it would spare you, it's cruel beyond belief to do that to you and Aveline. It... it scares me that that's where my mind went right away. I could have, should have, looked for ways to get _free_ , not... done that. Not given up, not left you."

Varric nods curtly. "You need to face this fear about... It cuts right through you. Most of the time, in a straight fight, it turns your mind to rage and wrath, but even that's less than optimal. A good chunk of your prowess is in your mind. Losing that is a serious issue."

She nods. "I thought I had. I thought... when I reacted badly to Andy, the first time we met, I had Zevran find some tieflings for me to meet, to be around, to practice fighting. To touch, to get close to." _To fuck_. "To really understand what they can and can't do. He offered to find someone who could summon a demon for me to meet but I... I might have cussed him out a little, and he didn't bring it up again. But... I told Andraste, I don't think I can love a sceleratii. I don't think I can even trust one. But it's probably better if I can be near one without..."

Varric stares a moment. _Did she just... Yes, but- okay. Hold that for a moment. (Hold her name-dropping Blessed Andraste?) (Yes, shush.) Alright... hmm..._ "It's not so much that you need to be able to even... tolerate them. You just can't lose your head around them. Or when thinking about them. I get that... the idea you might have been overshadowed or claimed by one could... well, it's just about the worst possible nightmare for you, just maybe shy of all of us being taken by sceleratii." _Or worse, that we **are** sceleratii, always have been. But let's not put that though in her head if she's managed to avoid it._ "So I can... allow that this was a major shock. Damn glad Andy was smart enough to hold off on the topic until you were at my place," he finishes in a mutter. _Wonder if he's noticed that his and Seli's mortgage got paid off yet? Not even been a day, probably not. Doubt most people have their finances watched that closely._

Hawke shudders. "Me too. I-- thank you." She takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure what I would have done without you, Aveline, and Bianca."

"Remember that," Varric says firmly. "Remember that you _do_ have us. You talk it over with Lawful? How is she?" he asks softly, clearly aware of what seeing that would have done to Aveline.

"Better, now," she says, quietly. "She was... not... that was cruel, what I did to her. Beyond cruel."

"Never seen her... buckle like that," Varric observes carefully. "You two... okay?"

She flinches, the bolt hitting home. "I hope so. The.. what we saw at the temple seems to have helped. She seems more.. focused, more determined."

_Temple? (Is it later? Can we not hold that anymore?) No, no, we'll get there._ "That... what you almost did was just because of the severity and... suddenness, right? You've never... tried that before?"

"No," she whispers. "Never. I--" _Come on, you told Aveline, tell Varric._ She looks down at her lap, biting her lower lip a moment. "I have thought, at times, that it would be better if I were... or if I had never been born. But I've never tried anything, would never try anything. Momento Mori was necessary, and that was... that was bad enough, that I had to do that."

Varric can't stop his heart from clenching, his lungs from freezing as-

_-eyes already dimming, filming over with ice and death-_

_-the sound of screaming, of Aveline fighting, of a whispery nothing just out of reach, the sound of Bianca firing-_

_-his body, aching and battered, the feel of cold stone and Merrill's too hot tears on his face-_

_-"I love you all." the words too soft, too lost and empty._

"Okay," he finally gasps out. He wants to say more, but he... he just can't.

One look at Varric's face and she looks away, draining her glass. _He can't have been conscious during that. He can't have. He must just have heard about it from Aveline._

He hadn't been _conscious_ , exactly, but his eyes had been open and his ears working. He didn't process what they detected at the moment but... every moment he wasn't throwing himself into work for the next month... yeah, he was there plenty. Still goes there sometimes. Like last night. And this night probably.

Varric is quiet for a good minute. "...Andraste?" he finally grunts.

"Very long story," she mutters. "The good news is, I'm free of taint."

"Merrill mentioned that... amidst giggles about you being Zevran's sort of family," Varric notes, inflection returning to his voice. "Got the impression that our space shaman rather enjoyed the good vibes of the temple more than most. We might want to work on... helping her learn to deal with that as well."

"I wouldn't know how. If Wynne can't help her with that, we need to find her a Shaman to learn from." Hawke perks up a little, frowning slightly in thought. "Though I wonder if just more exposure would help? Gradual exposure to more and more powerful divine energy sources..."

"Maybe have her do the same training Aveline gave you, for resisting mental influences," Varric suggests. "Anyway, that's something for later. From the beginning..."

She shakes her head. "I can't. I uh. My memory's all muddled." Not a great sign.

"Try," Varric says firmly. "What do you remember first from when you arrived?"

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "We waited. Aveline told me the Grand Cleric herself would be doing the summons, but she only had ten minutes. When she arrived, I apologized, told her if she's busy it's not-- no, that might have been later. I was nervous. Anxious. She was acting strange, like she was hiding something. She called me Bright, implied it was short for something." She shakes her head. "I finally -- we were walking to the summons room, and I told her, she needs to tell me what's going on, I'm not comfortable with this."

Varric suddenly looks interested, leaning forward a little. "Really? What was her answer?" he asks casually.

She frowns. "You know, don't you? What she said. What happened. You always have sources, you don't need me to tell it."

"Nope. Well, yes, I do have those but none that could get close to what happened yesterday." He frowns a little. "Kind of weird really."

She shakes her head. "Not once you hear it, it won't be." She takes a deep breath. "She said I was... they considered me an Illuminated Soul." She watches his face to see if he recognizes the phrase.

"Damn!" Varric says crossly. "Ugh. Tea tasting it is," he grumbles.

She looks away, silent. _I'm glad someone's benefiting from all this..._

He sobers at her reaction. "I gather you're not pleased with the... possibility of being..." Varric considers for a second, then offers, "on walkabout?"

"They're wrong," she says quietly. "I'm not Her."

"Is that your self-doubt talking or..?" Varric asks carefully.

"How can anyone know what Astea doesn't want known?" she asks quietly. "But as far as I can tell, from what happened after that, I'm not."

_The other gods might dispute the implication that Astea gets to decide everything. So might their worshippers._ "What did happen afterwards?"

"We went to the summoning-- well, it wasn't the summoning chamber. It was the Sanctum. That was the space that was free. There's a... a statue, there, in the center. Merrill went loopy at that point, because it was the Sanctum, it's like being near Raplin. Bright Victoria began the summoning, but instead of just calling a Pavitra, the statue... the statue became Andraste."

Varric stares a moment. "The Herald of Adoration?" he asks, wanting to be absolutely clear. _Sure, she dropped the name earlier but..._ "Astea's Handmaiden, Her personal messenger and agent?"

She looks at her empty glass, silent, for a moment. Then she summons up the courage to admit, "Yes."

"Huh. That must have been... neat." _Neat_? "Bit of a shock, I imagine. But... she said you... aren't Astea reborn?" he asks, brow furrowing. _Why would Andraste show up if...?_

"She didn't say I wasn't, not outright. But she didn't act like I was. She acted like the superior in our relationship, not the servant. Maybe that's how Astea wants to be treated when she goes walkabout, but probably not. Probably I'm just..." _Probably I'm not literally a god, but only a god's favored follower, one she personally cares about enough to send her Herald. What even is my life?_ "She wanted me to call her, big sister. I uh. I may have." _Here it goes._ "I may have kissed her." A pause. "A lot."

"As you do," Varric says neutrally. _Really Hawke? Really? Andraste?_ "That explains Merrill's comments about family." He winces suddenly. "How did, uh, Bright Victoria take you, ah, engaging with the Herald that way?" A beast. "How did _the Herald_ react to engaging with her that way?"

"She seemed... flattered?" she says, hesitantly, before groaning. "I don't know. It's all a jumble, Papa, I don't really understand why I... she just had an effect on me. Probably a divine aura thing."

"From most accounts, the's pretty normal. Well, having an affect, I can't recall reading about anyone ever kissing her," Varric notes. Then blinks. "...huh."

"No, what 'huh'? You can't just drop that and not say anything." She sounds a bit... anxious.

"What? Sorry. I just- it occurs to me that you may have been Andraste's first kiss," he explains. "Romantic kiss, I mean."

She groans again, closing her eyes a moment before she surges up off the loveseat. "Nope. This needs whiskey."

Varric snickers. "I'll take a few fingers," he calls after her. "So... if it ended with kissing, I imagine it must have gone well otherwise?"

"Uh, basically?" she hedges. "Like I said, it's really all muddled in my head. At some point I just gave up on it ever making sense and went with the flow." She pours two glasses of the whiskey, leaving the wineglass on the bar as she heads back to place one on Varric's desk.

"Understandable," Varric allows. "What's with the whole... big sister thing?"

"I really don't understand how it all works, Varric," she says quietly. _I can't talk to him about my death, I just can't._ "I guess she... well, it's an inferior relationship based on love. I think that's what's happening. She loves me, and looks on me fondly, and considers herself the superior of the two, which is why I think I'm not Astea herself. I'm probably just... very favored."

Varric studies her for a long moment, then sips his whisky. "This something you just need more time to process or something you're afraid to talk about?" he asks in steady tone. "Would it be easier if I ask Aveline?"

"No," she sighs. "I need to process it. I need some time when I'm not crazy stressed or crazy sleep-deprived to sort through what I do remember and... come to terms with it." She swallows a sip of the whiskey. "This is... you know how long it took me to come to grips with being a Light. With being a real, honest to Astea hero. With being someone anyone can care about. This... this is too much right now."

"Alright," Varric says softly. "Try and put it away for a bit then. Your new friends will only be here for another few days anyway. Damn shame too, the refined adamantine and living steel alloy won't arrive for two weeks. Claudia and I will have to finish up our experiment by letter."

Hawke nods. "I'm glad you made another friend," she says, sipping her drink again. "Anything else you want to shout at me about?"

"Have I shouted yet?" he asks mildly, tone a touch chiding.

"I wish you would," she says with a wince. _It's worse to have someone honestly concerned, in that quiet, kind tone. I'd rather have shouting so I could yell back._

"Bad Hawke," Varric says in the most placid shout one could imagine. "No apotheosizing. Bad Hawke!"

She smiles, a genuine, amused smile. "Thanks, Papa. I needed that."

"That's what fathers do," he says with a shrug, sipping his whisky to hide his mouth.

"And I have the best Papa a girl could ask for." She beams at him, sipping her whiskey. "Shall we do a puzzle?"

"Sounds like a plan," Varric agrees. _Give her a few days, then give her a good chance to open up again but don't do more than give her an opening to talk. Next month I'll broach the topic directly if she hasn't come to me yet,_ he decides. "Hour of math to relax, then invite your guests over?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "That sounds perfect."

\---

Over the next few days, she spends as much time as possible with Seli, Andy, Varric, Merrill, and Aveline, reconnecting and rebuilding the bonds that had begun to feel strained due to her long absence. She does have to report to work; she gets a mild rebuke from zi'Ulthis for taking off without any staff or a plan, but it's worth it to see Oathspeaker upbraided in front of the other Lights for passing off her duties on an untrained junior Light.

For Estelle's last night in Nyra, Hawke throws her and Claudia a farewell party with the full, extended Clan. Which means it's finally time to face the Zevran music, as she can't make excuses of having other plans or his being busy any longer...

Estelle is all sorta of buzzed and happy, despite being sad about leaving her best friend. _No. Be honest with yourself. Leaving your lover. Leaving perhaps the second most important person in your life. Sweet Ciren, how did..._ A flash of Andraste- fucking **Andraste** \- greeting Hawke as her little sister, as beloved family and one of Astea's scions fills Estelle's mind and she snorts. _Oh. Right. If the Goddess of Love judges someone as especially loving and lovable... Amazing taste in lovers as well,_ she thinks, glancing at Merrill and licking her lips. Hawke had allowed her to live out most of her little fantasy last night, and both elf bloods had assured Claudia they'd be up for a repeat in a few years when the merikos gnome is old enough to join in.

Claudia is having an incredible time as well. As fascinating as Nyra is in and of itself... _so many people!- the chance to engage with no less than **four** people my intellectual peers? And two of them at least modestly learned in engineering? Seeker Helene is a bit formal, but she- whoops, they (better not bring that up to Estelle) is really bright and knows so much about everything. Varric is more slanted towards alchemy but still. Brilliant. This has been... incredible. Merrill is a bit ditzy, but nice enough. Zevran is hot as fuck. Shame he's so twitchy about Estelle... maybe when we come back... _

As for Zevran... _It is strange... it's almost like I want her to have been evil. Or at least petty. Or have terrible flatulence. But she's not. Estelle is arrogant and sexist, albeit polite about it, but... she's also kind and caring, willing to learn new ideas and slyly funny. And yes Hawke, I am that sort of family because I would gladly spend an entire afternoon worshipping that ass of hers._ He frowns slightly, looking across the room where Hawke is teasing Wynne about how it's her house and she can so make a pot of tea just fine, thank you. _You, however, are hiding something from me, mon faucon bien-aimé..._ When Hawke slips into the kitchen, Zevran shadows right behind her. He watches for just a moment as she fills a pot. When she starts to turn towards the tea cabinet, he silently reaches out with the box of clover tea.

She smiles at him warmly, but there's a shadow in her eyes. "Thank you, my wicked one. Enjoying the party?" she asks, taking the box and turning back to fix the tea.

"I think I'm done sulking that... my aunt isn't evil and I can't hate her, yes," Zevran says blandly. "How are you doing?"

"A little sad Estelle's leaving, but it's good to be back. Some routine will be nice, I think." _He's clever -- now I'm trapped here for the eight minutes or so it takes to brew this clover tisane._

Zevran smiles faintly at her, then wraps an arm around her so he can pull her close. "And...? You have... a shadow in your eyes when you look at me the last few days," he says softly. "Talk to me?"

She makes a face. "It's... a long story, I'm afraid, and not one you'll like. I'd been waiting until Estelle leaves to get into it."

Zevran's arm tenses for a moment, then he asks very carefully, "should I be making another 'no killing a bitch' promise?"

"No," she says, her tone dark. "This bitch you can kill, with my blessing." A beat. "So long as you can manage to not piss off the Matriarch in the doing."

"So not Estelle," he says thoughtfully. "The crazy aunt?"

"There were a.... couple of sexual encounters I had avoided telling you about," she begins, slowly. "I wanted to ease you into some of it."

Zevran's whole body tenses and his breathing stops for a moment. "What- who hurt you?" he asks in a raged filled whisper.

"It's not another Rosemary," she says quickly. "I just... I was... poorly informed, and I... made bad decisions."

"...details. Please?" he manages to ask.

"I can't when you're like this," she says quietly. She takes a deep breath, letting it out. "I-- I thought she was a tiefling," she manages.

"As opposed to-" _Tiefling. **Tiefling.**_ "Are- are you okay?" Zevran asks urgently, spinning her around to look her over, as if he'll be able to find wounds he somehow missed for the last four days. "Have you- does Aveline know? Were you- are you okay?"

"I'm okay," she says quickly. "I had myself purified, had Aveline look me over, and for good measure, went to the Temple of Astea and had the Grand Cleric summon a Pavitra to ask if I was in any way compromised. I'm as okay as okay can be. But it... was a rough day, when I found out."

Zevran sags against her, kissing the side of her neck. "Thank you Ciren. Ah, Astea, I mean. Both. And Vangal for good measure. Have you... talked with... well, clearly Aveline knows but.. Varric? Or your therapist?"

"Varric knows," she says, quietly. "Merrill too."

_So she hasn't been dealing with this alone. Good. But why..._ "Why... you were worried about stressing me when I was already being... complicated about Estelle," he says with a sigh.

"That and..." _In for a copper, in for a gold._ "I encountered her when I was... well, you see, I had the opportunity and, I know if it wasn't for the whole Drow thing you'd have encouraged me to take it, so I, it was the chance of a lifetime and..." She swallows. "I may have, kind of, fucked the Matriarch."

"That's... the head of Estelle's clan? Or whatever they call it?" Zevran asks tentatively. _I can't... overreact. She's clearly dreading this conversation. Expecting me to get angry, be upset- **attack her**. I can't do that to her, not after... what she's already dealing with._

She nods. "Estelle's grandmother. Even just being able to call her by name is a great honor, which I earned. To be invited to her bedroom, and for kinky games... of course I said yes. The offer was for her and her pet, you see, and so I..." She swallows. "We think it was a lilin."

"Who the fuck has a pet li-" Zevran takes a deep breath. "Sorry. That just... seems like the sort of thing that should come up during boundary negotiations."

"Yes, well, I negotiated poorly," Hawke says, her tone dark. "It... charmed me, more than once. When I found out -- which was while I was back in Nyra, by the way -- I... overreacted at first."

"I should... I can... teach you. What to ask, what to... say upfront. If you... if you're still interested in... games and those sorts of games," Zevran manages.

"Yes," she says, softly but rapidly. "I want to learn. Estelle told me some things, but... I want to be safe, next time. I did so badly this trip without you, my Warrior. I should have brought you with me, to teach me."

"..." Zevran coughs slightly. "Thank you for the compliment- and the faith you have in me- but I would have gotten us both killed," he says bluntly.

"Yeah," she sighs wistfully. "Still, it turns out I quite like subbing after all."

Zevran nods slowly. "I am not surprised really Oh, not that you enjoy submitting, exactly, you are not like nos fleur belle. But the show of trust implied by that? The... gifting of control to another? Yes, I can see how that would... excite you."

Hawke nods, slowly. "The thrill of... having my..." She takes a deep breath, and it catches in her throat. "Not tonight. But someday, I want to play those games with you." _When I'm not thinking about a damned lilin._

"I would be honored," Zevran says softly. He leans in again to kiss her neck, then her jaw, her lips, the tip of her nose. "But you are well? The pavitra was sure? And you're sure they would know? They were not just a... tiny, common.... pavitra imp?"

"Ah, no," she says, blushing. "That's the other thing. See, when we asked for a Pavitra we kind of got... blessedandrasteherself." She coughs a little.

"...who?" Zevran asks criously. "Blessed... and a Rasty?"

"Ah, you know how gods have Heralds?"

"The shouter that introduces people at parties? I did not." A random thought. "Do you have a herald? As a Light?"

"No, not quite. They do... my understanding is it's more like Bodhain: an assistant, the right hand of the Divine, the one who often acts as a go-between when the gods can't directly intervene."

"So... you summoned the personal assistant of Astea?" Zevran asks, bemused. "For... a healer visit?"

"Not on purpose! I guess she wanted to meet me?"

"Huh. I cannot blame her," he says. "How did it go? Was she... well, I assume she almost has to be nice. Was she pretty?"

"Uh. I kissed her. So yes?"

"How was it?"

"I've had better. But she's quite lovely as a person."

There's a noise from the doorway and they both glance over to see Aveline spinning away. "Nope."

Zevran is silent a beat, then begins to laugh. "Oh my. She was there, wasn't she? You kissed Astea's herald in front of Aveline!"

Hawke is beet red. "Yes. Shit."

Zevran continues to snicker for a while, but finally gets control of himself. "I'm sorry. I should not make fun of another's faith, I just... she has the most delightful reactions to such things."

Hawke smiles a bit to see Zevran laughing, but she sighs now, giving it up. "I just hope she's having half as much fun with this as you are."

Zevran winces at that pointed little comment. "You are correct," he admits. "I should speak with her. I... think she is not so bothered as she makes out to be but it is ill of me to assume such."

"I'm sorry," she says with a sigh. "It's been a long week for her and I both."

_For me as well, my love... and so for you to call Aveline out specifically, either she is better at hiding her concerns than I realized and was also bothered by the drow trip or..._ "I... get the impression that this was... worse than I realized, even... given what the issue was," he observes gently, eyes on her face.

"Yeah," she sighs. "But it's over now. I'm fine. Better than fine -- I'm apparently good. And good enough at loving to be recognized from the heavens." She blushes, glancing away. "Apparently, Astea likes my Clan."

"Duh," Zevran says with as straight face. But only for a few seconds. "Really? What did she say? Or well, her herald lady say on her behalf- unless you're saying Astea also showed up, in which case, maybe next time lead with 'I met _the_ Goddess.'"

Hawke shakes her head emphatically. "No, Astea herself did not show up. It's... my head's all muddled a bit, but Andraste said I should double down on my Clan efforts. She seemed... impressed. Pleased."

"Ah. So... we've gotten an official endorsement from _Astea_. I... can see why you're, as you say, muddled," he says after a moment, sounding a touch dazed himself.

"Now you understand," she says, with a nod. "This whole thing is just... it was the weirdest day of my life."

"Which for you, is really saying something," Zevran comments wryly.

"Right?" she jokes. "Anyway, I plan to schedule some extra time with Father Lelldorin next week, once everything's calmed back down."

"Good," Zevran says firmly, kissing her in gratitude. "Is Aveline... Does she have someone to talk to about this?" He pauses as he realizes he doesn't know much about Aveline's... paladin stuff.

"I... don't know," says Hawke, sounding surprised. "She's so private, I suspect she's not talking to people about this. Maybe she should."

"Hmmm." Zevran steps back, then heads for the door. "No better way to know than to ask," he tosses over his shoulder.

"Wait, what? Now?" Hawke chases after him. "We're at a party!"

"I was going to ask her to come in here. I'll wink broadly at everyone to make them think it's a game or something," he says airly.

"Or, how about you let her enjoy herself and corner her later?" _Plus she's bound to tell you what I almost did, and that's a bit heavy for today._

Zevran pouts. "But know I'm curious about her paladin mentor. Did she have an mentor? Or was the stick a natural growth?"

Hawke groans. "Zevran!"

"Hawke!" he gasps back, eyes alight.

"Oye, that's my thing, lech," Aveline call from the living room nearby. Has she been there this whole time? Listening?

She laughs, stepping back toward the kitchen. "Fine, fine. You'll do as you please anyway."

Zevran huffs, crossing his arms in clearly faux-outrage. "I am so abused," he mopes.

"I suspect all your abuse is self-abuse, in the Dorian sect fashion," Aveline says blandly as she steps back into the kitchen.

"The what now?" Zevran asks, confused.

"Dorian sect: a very, very small but regrettably vocal splinter of the Ciren church. Not popular in Nyra, thankfully. They claim that pleasure and passion can't be real if it's not shared, so any kind of... solitary activity is very close to a sin," Aveline explains in an almost Helene-like tone.

"Makes sense to me," says Hawke, with a shrug.

Zevran sputters a little. "Did- did you just make a sex joke?"

"They also include things like reading a book by yourself, or taking a warm bath alone," Aveline clarifies for Hawke. And ignores Zevran.

Hawke frowns, thoughtfully. "I do like reading, but it is better with Merrill. And baths are definitely better shared. Alright, you got me, where do I sign up?"

Aveline snorts. "Draslina is the closest, I'd suspect. But you might want to look into them a bit more first. Like far too many splinter sects, they can be... very aggressive about spreading their views. In fairness, when their leadership decries people being stoned to death for self-pleasuring, they actually mean it- to the point of turning over their membership to authorities for the crime- but still," Aveline says a touch grimly. "Anyway. I was... half-trying not to listen really, until I caught my name. You had a question, I think?"

Hawke gestures to Zevran. "Besides, I think Big Sister Andraste would be disappointed in me if I joined a Ciren cult."

Aveline snorts. "Yes, let's not have the Spirit of Adoration throw down with Exaltation of Passion for any reason, much less your... devotion," the paladin agrees dryly.

"Sorry, Big Sister?" Zevran asks. "As in Hawke being Little Sister?"

"I _did_ say she liked me," Hawke says, blushing.

"That is _very_ different than Little _Sister_ ," Zevran says firmly.

Aveline rolls her eyes. "Yes, yes- honestly, are you really surprised that Hawke is adored by Astea and her... Clan?"

Zevran opens his mouth, finger lifted, then pauses. "...valid."

"Seriously? You guys all act like I'm some kind of, I don't know... magical puppy that you're ensorcelled to find adorable or something."

"Let's not be absurd Hawke- Beka was much cuter than you when she was a puppy," Aveline says firmly. "Certainly drooled less than you when I was working out."

Zevran stares again. "Okay, that one was certainly a sex joke!"

"We're aware you have flaws, but you have to admit that you love easier and... truer than anyone else you know," Aveline continues.

"I don't think truer. Isn't your heart all the more valuable because of how hard I had to work to win it?" she asks, reaching for Aveline's hand so she can nuzzle her cheek against it.

"I... that's a lovely thing to say- more so because you truly believe it truth- but that was because of doubt, of you and more, myself." Aveline strokes her thumb across Hawke's soft skin. "But you... you just... love. Nearly everyone. Even people you hate, you seem to love at least a little. Love what they could be, I suppose."

"And more, you have this... quality that makes people want to be loved by you. To be worth your love," Zevran says softly. "No, that's not quite... to be worthy of your love. It's not a matter of value or... deserving it. You give your heart too freely for that. It's just... you make us want to be better Just... because you think we can be. That we already are."

_That must be why they think -- thought -- I was Astea. The part about people wanting to be better. That's how I feel about the Divine Mother._ She blushes, but nods, solemnly. "I wish you could see yourselves how I see you. You don't have to change anything. You're already amazing."

"So are you," both of them say back to her instantly. Zevran snickers while Aveline just smiles warmly at Hawke.

"You had something you wanted to..."

"Ah, yes. Well, a few things, technically," Zevran says with a nod. "The first thought was from when Hawke mentioned talking with Seeker Lelldorin, it made me think that you're probably also struggling with... dealing with the, ah, revelations and events yesterday at the temple. Which in turn made me wonder who you talk god things over with. And thus about who even taught you god stuff and how did you end up a paladin in the first place."

"I'll admit to being curious, though I'm also concerned that you have someone to talk to," Hawke adds, nuzzling Aveline's hand further.

"Well..." Aveline blushes a little. "I'll admit yesterday was... shocking. And... mind blowing, amazing, stunning, astounding and wondrous. But... after I had some time to process things... it's honestly made me more at peace than I've been in year," the paladin says serenely, staring into Hawke's eyes with a strange expression. It's loving and gentle but also... fierce somehow, like a banked fire.

She smiles fondly at Aveline. "I'm glad. I thought you seemed more... focused."

Aveline blushes a little. "That, ah, that's not... exactly.... related," she manages.

"So... date night went well?" Zevran asks brightly.

"Yes it did," she mutters in reply. "Not that it's anything you need to hear details about, thank you. As for your other questions... well, I do speak with someone every other month as a... general mental health maintenance thing. As for speaking on matters of faith, I don't really have a regular person. I just ask to speak to a Bright's at the temple. Well, I do exchange a letter or two with my mentor, Cassandra, each year but she's rarely if ever in Nyra."

Hawke nods. "Good. I'm glad you're getting your needs met."

Aveline bites her lip, flicks a look at Zevran then firms her resolve. _You say I don't have to be Zevran. And I won't try. But... maybe it wouldn't hurt to learn a thing or two from him. _"I assure you, amata, my needs are well met," she replies husikly.__

__Hawke lowers her eyelids, looking at Aveline. "Glad to be of service," she purrs, renewing her nuzzling efforts._ _

__Aveline leans in, brushing her lips across Hawke's own. She pushes her hand back, out of Hawke's grip, so she can grasp the back of her lover's head and hold her still. She teases Hawke, not deepening the kiss, but instead just flirting with the idea of a real kiss._ _

__Hawke tugs against Aveline's hand as she kisses, trying to move toward her; after a moment, she gives up, letting out a small, pitious whimper in the back of her throat._ _

__Aveline looks a little flustered when she finally pulls back. "...you... really get into that," she notes hoarsely. She clears her throat. "... we were talking about... something." _God, that moan of hers is..._ She shivers a little._ _

__"Estelle has ruined my life. Now you're all doing it," she moans. "Yes, right, conversation. Talking. I can pretend to care about that."_ _

__"If-" Aveline swallows, hard. Wait. She darts a glance to the side and- Zevran is making tea? With his back to them? "Umm. Zevran?"_ _

__"You are both evil," he says briskly, still not turning around. "To tease a man with what he knows he cannot have. As such, you can make your own cups of teas."_ _

__"And here I thought you liked teasing," Hawke replies, her voice husky._ _

__"Only if I'm part of the tease," he replies easily, turning around and offering a pair of tea mugs to them both. "Honey for my honey and plain for the pain."_ _

__"You could have... watched. If you wanted. I knew you were there and... if... if I do that, you can watch. Just... no touching or... crass comments please," Aveline says quietly, taking the mug. "And, ummm, if the two of you want to... step upstairs, I can make an excuse."_ _

__"Is that excuse to come upstairs with me?" she asks, batting her eyes at Aveline. "You could tie me up and make me watch as Zevran... Zevrans," she adds, in a lower, more seductive tone. "Maybe with Merrill," she adds, brightening a little._ _

__"W-wwhat?" Aveline sputters, taking a step back, then another. "No!"_ _

__Zevran's eyes widen a bit, not sure if he's insulted by how fast she said no. _Eh, mostly shock and surprise._ "I think perhaps there has been a misunderstanding?" he suggests._ _

__"I just- kissing. I meant, if I kiss you, I don't expect him to- to flee the room or cover his eyes. I- I'm not okay with- with- with Zevraning Zevran," she tries to explain rapidly. "Or him watching me Zevran someone else."_ _

__She pouts. "But if you're holding me hostage, there's gotta be something tempting me," she points out. "I figured if you weren't with Zevran, you might be okay with it? Look, I spent most of the trip being tormented by Estelle, I've gone a little bent, alright?" she laughs._ _

__"Noticing that," Zevran observes, tone a strange mix of pleased, annoyed and purring._ _

__"I... I just... maybe Merrill," Aveline mutters, face a flaming scarlet. "Maybe. It might... better, easier with you... there, if we.... she and I, not you and- I mean, yes, also us but-" She goes silent, then sucks in a deep breath to steady herself._ _

__"Then, later, I can show you a few things demonstrated on her? If you like the way I whimper, you'll adore Merrill," she adds._ _

__Aveline closes her eyes. "Not helping," she grits out. "Had more sex last night than the previous two months and I still-" Deep breath._ _

__"How is that even possible?" Zevran mutters._ _

__"Magic," Hawke says, simply. "I'm just that hot." She smirks, tossing her hair a little._ _

__"No, I mean, time. Even if you just went for it each time, that's at least five minutes a pop, so-"_ _

__"Not everyone fucks five times a day," Aveline snaps. "Thank you for the tea, I'll tell Merrill to met you both upstairs," she adds, turning away to leave the kitchen._ _

__Hawke shoots Zevran a dirty look. _Now you've done it. "No, wait, Aveline," she says, chasing a couple steps after her. "I'm not actually as sex starved as I play at, we can enjoy the party."__ _

___"I'm not mad with you," Aveline says with a sigh. "Or... at Zevran, really. Just... a bit... I need to think." She glances back, mustering a smile. "Go enjoy yourself. Feel loved. I'll... go and work more on reassuring Estelle not all of Vangal's are bigoted assholes."_ _ _

___"You're sure?" she says, quietly. "I want to make sure you don't feel... neglected."_ _ _

___"You love me," Aveline says simply. "How could I feel neglected with that?"_ _ _

___Hawke smiles her best, sappiest smile. "Alright," she coos. "Alright." She turns back to Zevran, cricking her neck._ _ _

___Zevran nods at Aveline before slinking over to Hawke. "Perhaps a quick bout? She will feel guilty if we just follow her, I think, and yet..."_ _ _

___"That's a terrible reason to fuck," she points out, with a sly grin. "How about because you missed me?"_ _ _

___Zevran laughs softly. "Hawke, the only reason I need to fuck you, is you." He kisses her softly. "I was merely saying that we should keep it as a preview, an appetizer, for her sake."_ _ _

___Her reply is to twist her head to one side and kiss the nape of his neck._ _ _

___\---_ _ _

___Some forty minutes later, Hawke is back downstairs. As she takes a seat, taking in the ongoing conversations, Estelle plops down in her lap in a startling similar fashion to another drowblood in her life. Bit heavier though, not that Hawke would comment on that. "Hey," she says softly, voice sad._ _ _

___"Hey," she says, reaching up to stroke Estelle's cheek with the back of her fingers._ _ _

___"I'm going to miss you," Estelle says rather directly. "I can't believe how much you've come to mean to me, in just a month and some."_ _ _

___"I know," she says, with a sigh. "I'll write you, all the time."_ _ _

___Estelle smiles faintly. "You'd better. Or I won't sneak back here, tie you up and make you watch as I ravish your wife for hours." She sighs a little._ _ _

___Hawke plants a kiss on her cheek. "I'll miss you too."_ _ _

___Estelle looks into Hawke's eyes for a long moment, then leans into to rest her forehead. "Oh... I'd decided something," she murmurs. "Well, maybe I should say I've... something to admit, I suppose."_ _ _

___"You have?" she asks, her tone light._ _ _

___"Mmmh. I couldn't earlier but..." Estelle smiles faintly. "I love you back. More than that... I _trust_ you. More than anyone but Claudia."_ _ _

___Hawke's face softens, and she smiles. "I love you too, Estelle. Thank you."_ _ _

___Estelle shifts, looking nervous, though she's very, very good at covering that sort of thing. "You... I'm not sure if you realized... when Grandmother... dies, my mother won't take the throne. Not unless it's in the next five years or so, which is very unlikely I think."_ _ _

___"It skips a generation?" she asks, to confirm._ _ _

___"Not... always. It's more that... she doesn't qualify. She's not... clever enough. Or... no, not cleverness. She's too controlled by her whims and desires. If nothing else, her, ah, indulgences of Bienthalla would disqualify her."_ _ _

___Hawke nods, a small frown on her face. "How do you feel about that?"_ _ _

___The drow shrugs a little. "It's something I've known for a four decades or so. I've accepted it. I want to rule," she says in an 'and thus is shall be so' voice that fits her far too well. "I just wanted... if you ever need... help. Or... a place to go. Not that I think you will. I just..."_ _ _

___"Thank you," Hawke says warmly. "I don't think I'll need it. Just like you probably won't need my help, but if you ever do, please, write to me, I'll come right away."_ _ _

___"And the same to you," Estelle says softly. "I plan on pushing to have you... well, I mean, if you're okay with it, but I wanted to see if we could have Zevran formally acknowledged, and, though him, you as allied kin."_ _ _

___Hawke nods. "As long as that doesn't jeopardize anything about my status as a Light, that sounds good."_ _ _

___Estelle purses her lips, then shrugs. "I wouldn't think it would, but if you can check and let me know, I'll wait until you're sure it won't hurt you. It's just- well, one of the benefits is that I could send the materials and crafters needed to sheath your walls with nulstone."_ _ _

___"The walls? What, so I don't burn it down by mistake?"_ _ _

___"You mean freeze it?" Estelle teases her. "No. Well, yes. I assume you already have lead in your walls, but nulstone not only acts as an additional barrier, doubling the protection or better, it'll also protect you from more direct assaults. Unless it's entirely enclosed, it won't block teleportation or communication spells, but a fireball or the like? Unless it's an archmage, three out of five strikes will just sizzle out. And the other two will hit stone as tough as granite." She scowls a little. "You live far too dangerous a life for me to feel comfortable not doing _everything_ I can to make it safer."_ _ _

___"What, really? Yes, then, gods yes." _I could worry so much less about Merrill...__ _ _

____That flick of her eyes... Merrill. Of course. I offer her protection and her first thought isn't of herself, but of her wife, her family. Oh Hawke..._ "You could destroy me so easily," she murmurs thoughtlessly, then stares at Hawke in horror before averting her gaze.._ _ _

___"I never will," she says gently, cupping Estelle's jawline. "That's why you love me"_ _ _

___"It terrifies me," Estelle whispers. "I trust Claudia as much as this, yes, but she's... well, she's dependent on me. Harming me would harm her. And I've known her for half a decade. We're married. You were- you were just another white faced surfacer that was going to sneer and leer at me in equal measure, looking down at the cruel savage as you drool over my tits. And then... you were _you_. Nice and kind and open and you just... slid past every defense and reservation I have."_ _ _

___Hawke runs her thumb over Estelle's cheek, in a rhythmic motion that soothes her as much as she hopes it soothes Estelle. "I love you," she says quietly. "It's always scary, loving people. Giving them something of your heart, and hoping they cherish it. But it's always worth it."_ _ _

___Estelle shivers slightly, eyes closing halfway as she leans into the touch. "...sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to... dump all that on you. I just wanted to... give you the words back, then make the offer about family, so I could look after you. I didn't... "_ _ _

___"Brave one," murmurs Hawke, in Elven. "Beautiful one." Remembering that Estelle doesn't speak Elven, she forces herself back into Common: "I am glad I could comfort you. I'd rather know and help. Remember the Clan words: Honesty, Openness, and Trust."_ _ _

___"I don't feel very brave," Estelle says softly, wincing at the elven but evidently understanding it. "I feel... weak and vulnerable. It..." _Makes me feel sick and trembling and uneasy. Angry. Excited and warm. Confused. Very, very confused.__ _ _

___"How can you be brave if you're not terrified?" she asks, with a smile. "A lot of people don't understand that. Bravery isn't not being afraid; it's being afraid and doing it anyway."_ _ _

___"Unless you're a paladin," Estelle says bitterly, darting a half-second glare at Aveline, who is currently sitting on the long sofa with Merrill curled against her side. Hawke might note with interest that the elf's head is resting on Aveline's chest in a very intimate gesture. She might note with even more interest- and perhaps some excitement- that Aveline is grasping one of Merrill's forearms in a very secure but gentle grip. "Must be nice, to never fear anything."_ _ _

___"Probably," she says, with a shrug. "I figure most paladins aren't very brave at all. They've never had to be. Aveline, though... Well, I don't know how it is for anyone else, but Aveline is brave. I don't know if her faith isn't strong enough or what, but I've seen her afraid." _Just the other day, in fact._ "Mostly of... the twin fears of loving and losing. She lost someone when she was younger, and it hurt her very badly. It took her years to love me, and years more before she could admit to loving anyone else. Sharing me has been one of the hardest things she's done: giving up on that dream of monogamy and solo marriage, giving up on the idea of growing old with a partner."_ _ _

___Estelle stills a little, rethinking things. A part of her brain notes how she instantly trusts that Hawke's explanation is right, instantly adopted as the correct way of describing and analyzing the Vangalite. _More love as a weakness... and yet... damnit Hawke, what have you done to me? Deep breath, Estelle. Stop panicking and whining and do as you've been taught. Hawke loves like- well, Astea basically, and she's not weak. So clearly, it can be a strength. And you know this. You done it before, when you stood up to Mother for Claudia. Or Grandmother and Aunt Bienthalla about Hawke... and that was well before you could truly say you loved her. Deep breaths. Wait..._ "Why won't- oh, right, human. She won't live as long as you," Estelle murmurs, her gaze darting to Claudia, who will be lucky to live half of her own lifespan. "I suppose you won't get old at the same rate, no. But monogamy isn't much to give up, not by the surface definition."_ _ _

___"She's not human," she points out. "And I live a very dangerous lifestyle. In the half dozen years we've been together, she's almost lost me... three, four times? It almost ended what was between us -- she could see how this would end, and she wasn't sure it was worth going through that again. But she decided it was. Her dreams of monogamy were just... what was expected of her, not what she actually wanted. What she wanted was love, and love I can give her."_ _ _

____She's not? Huh. Gods, **four** times? Damnit Hawke, I'm going to..._ "I don't know the political landscape here well enough. How much trouble would it cause you if I left Toren here to guard you forever?"_ _ _

___Hawke chuckles. "Welcome to the Clan," she jokes. "Aveline's so far done the best effort of assigning me someone, and that's only because someone has to write up reports for the Lights and the Guard of what I do. I don't do bodyguards."_ _ _

___"He wouldn't be your bodyguard... he'd be... an envoy, learning your ways. A student and a teacher. Cultural exchange," Estelle weedles, pulling out a ridiculously flirty pout. A beat later and the flirty aspect tones down to just obviously flirty. Evidently that's the lowest setting._ _ _

___She plants a kiss on Estelle's cheek. "No," she says firmly, with a hint of a smile. "Bad Estelle."_ _ _

___"Yes," she says shamelessly, already plotting on how to smuggle in a unit of drow infiltrators to watch over her. _Her Papa might be willing to assist, he seems to be appropriately protective. And surprisingly competent for a male. But that's for later. As for Hawke..._ "Does that mean you'll punish me?" she asks in a very low voice, eyes betraying her nerves at the offer, if offer it is._ _ _

___"Worse," she teases. "I _won't_ punish you."_ _ _

___Estelle leans in. "Not punish me... like... I don't punish you?" she whispers._ _ _

___Hawke sighs, wistful. "I'm going to miss you so much. You've taught me so much about myself."_ _ _

___Estelle huffs a little. "Thank you," she says, annoyed with Hawke and herself. More herself than Hawke... _Being afraid and doing it anyway... fiiiinne._ "Hawke, I'm trying to- I'm offering to sub for you."_ _ _

___Her eyes widen. "Oh! I thought you were just flirting -- you're serious?" She sounds a little awed._ _ _

___Estelle looks away, studying their clasped hands. "I... I've never... really chosen to sub. With Grandmother and my parents, it's just... expected. No-one tops the Matriarch and until I'm officially higher ranked than Mother or my aunt... they're my parents. But with you..."_ _ _

___She strokes her fingers along Estelle's jawline, touched into speechlessness. _Estelle... I won't forget this. I won't let you regret it either._ "Well," she says, after a moment, her voice husky. "I think it's time someone taught you some manners, then."_ _ _


	11. Mistaken Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke works on her tolerance.

Over the next few months, Hawke makes good on her promise to seek counseling, to work on herself, to stay safe. She doesn't bring up the incident in the kitchen again, nor Andraste; it's best, she decides, not to think too hard about all that, as she can drive herself insane analyzing it if she lets herself. Instead, she confines discussion of those points to her sessions with Lelldorin, letting him help her in a way she can't bring herself to let her Clan.

She does speak with Victoria a handful of times; after a while, she starts dodging her requests to meet thanks to how uncomfortable the whole thing makes her to talk about. Victoria's nice and all, but Hawke has never wanted to be put on a pedestal like that, to be worshipped or admired in that way.

Her duties with the Lights grow, leaving her less time to adventure. She starts shadowing other Lights, learning about how to govern a city: taxes, trade deals, administration of services, the works. She hates it at first, but she has to admit it's work that needs doing, and work that benefits far more people than her one-off lifesaving. It just feels so passive to her, so dull.

Surely there has to be a way to balance both halves of her life?

Thankfully Victoria does dial back after a few weeks. She's clearly disappointed that Hawke doesn't want to take a more prominent role in the church. So at least that doesn't continue to drain her, but between the deeply emotional talks with Seeker Lelldorin and her increasing frustration with administrative Light work... she really needs her occasional night off. Shame none of her Clan are free tonight, but they have lives too.

Zevran actually have a night out with Andy, celebrating the tiefling's recent commendation for preventing a child's kidnapping while off-duty. Merril is over Seli's watching the twins so their mother can just relax. Varric and Helene are doing some kind of unspeakable things to some chips of nulstone Estelle slipped to Hawke after they promised not to try to duplicate it in any way. Aveline has to work.

Which leaves Hawke by herself. Well... not exactly. Morrigan smirks a little as Hawke slumps back in the bed. "So... any changes in your opinion on forked tongues?" the vishkanya woman asks coyly, her eidolon wrapping his arms- and wings- around his Mistress's torso as she leans back into him.

"It's creepy," the hero replies, but her tone is lazy, relaxed, teasing. "I think... this went well," she adds, with a yawn. "I might be ready for step two."

"I don't suppose you've reconsidered my proposition for... alternative payments?" Morrigan asks idly, not expecting a positive answer. _Her gold is well received, but the devil I could summon and bind with her help? A nice tantric ritual for power, or even a single vial of her blood... Oh, the things I could learn from one such as that. I dare not even broach my desire for a child but perhaps in time, should this... dalliance continue._ As she speaks, her eidolon unfurls from around her. Olin smiles at Hawke, winking a blood red eye at her. His long serpent tail slides up and down Hawke's leg teasingly. Clearly non-humanoid, with his long, thin arms, six fingers, scaled bat-wings, furred body and lack of legs. The curled horns, eyes and forked tongue don't help either, nor the large cat muzzle and fangs. Despite the alien appearance, he's strangely attractive, radiating a primal appeal. A very masculine one, given his other... attribute.

"Not-- not yet," Hawke replies, her throat closing on the words. "I'm sorry, I know it's just bigotry, but I can't... I can't yet condone the sorts of things you'll do with it. Maybe someday?"

Morrigan snorts. "It's not _just_ bigotry," she says easily. "Devils are incredibly dangerous. Evil, cruel, manipulative and terrible. But they are also powerful and wise. There is good reason why I stay in Nyra, despite how many _people_ are here." Wow, she can pack a lot of scorn and disdain in that word. "Being able to use the summoning circles at the temples here is worth the hassle. But you think you are up to lying with Olin?"

"Oh pleasse ssay yess," Olin says softly, crawling up alongside Hawke and trailing his fingers atop her stomach. His fingertips are dry, slightly ridged and much warmer than most humanoids, almost to the point of being hot. Not painfully though.

She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "Yes," she whispers. "You're warm," she adds, distantly, her mouth dry. _Breathe. It's just sex. You can do this. He's not even a real devil; eidolons are special, Outsiders without being Outsiders, summoned creatures more born of the creator's mind than any deity's shaping._

"A remnant of another life, perhaps," Olin suggests idly, as his hand goes south, fingernails gently scraping her skin. "Would you prefer to be ridden or mounted?" he asks almost politely. Given his body shape, it would likely be unpleasant for him, particularly with whole his wings are attached to his back, for him to be on the bottom.

"Mounted," she whispers, taking another deep breath. "And... perhaps.. Morrigan could.. hold me down?" _Give me something to struggle with, something to fight against, to take my mind off it..._

Morrigan rises so she can crawl over to the headboard. She leans her back against it, then spreads her legs. "How about... you put your mouth here, I'll hold your arms in place so you can't rise and Olin will fuck you from behind?"

Hawke nods, pressing a kiss to Morrigan's hand before she crawls into position. She's no stranger by now to elven kissing, either in the mouth or in the nether regions; nor, after many sessions with Zevran and Aveline, is it odd for her wrists to be held, for her to be bound. She struggles, but it's clearly in play; the way she writhes is more of an invitation than a resistance, almost begging to be held tighter, to be _punished_. So familiar is it, that she almost forgets the purpose until Olin enters her, his weight pressing down on her from behind.

As the scene progresses, Hawke feels a deep sense of unease. Later, upon reflection, it's her thoughts that bother her the most: _He is taking me, defiling me, I'm being defiled by a demon, I'm a prisoner and I cannot escape, oh Ciren, have mercy, please..._ She's not sure if she's begging for it to stop or begging for it to go further, begging to be filled, taken, _used_.

She says nothing about it. She doesn't have time; when the scene is done, when she's curled up in Morrigan's arms, they're disturbed by a firm knock at the door. A familiar knock.

Morrigan sighs a little. _Hawke is rather good as a lover, for someone I can't dismiss. Pleasant to view, skilled. Insists on cuddling after sex, but at least she's not clingy or chatty. Ugh. And now there's this, whatever it is._ Not wishing to rise, she calls Olin back into existence, sending him to get the door.

"Yess, what do you-"

"Sceleratis!" a male voice bellows. A second later and Hawke can just barely see Olin dodging backwards into the room.

Hawke rolls out of bed, grabbing her staff -- which was leaning against the wall near the bed -- out of habit as she makes for the door. _Demons, there's a demon, where--_

"How dare you?" Morrigan rages, gesturing sharply with one hand. Still naked, she surges from the bed even as a swarm of spiders flows from her palm to form a lash.

Olin, meanwhile, strikes back against the guards with grim displeasure, breaking the arm of one of them at the cost of a gash across his chest.

"Wait wait wait wait! Everyone freeze!" Hawke calls, trying to get between the guards and Olin. "Guardsman, what's going on here?!"

They don't seem to recognize her, unfortunately, the uninjured one moving to strike Hawke with what she at least recognizes as one of the Merciful crudels the guard are issued. "Drop your weapon and stand down!" Olin, however, takes advantage of her distraction to pull back so he can cover Morgan as she casts again, this time with no noticeable effect.

Hawke parries with her staff. "Do you or do you not have a writ to arrest someone in this room? By what authority are you sent here?" she demands. "No-one here has struck at you save in self defense, so you'd better have a damn good reason for disturbing us."

"Drop your weapon or we will drop you!" the injured grits out, stepping back to cast a basic healing spell on himself. The other steps in to attack again, weapon raising.

" **STAND DOWN**!" a very familiar- and very welcome- voice bellows. "That's a Light you're attacking!" The guards falter, then both glance at the paladin charging up the hallway towards them. Which is probably going to get them yelled at on top of anything else- both of them looking away from a combat at once? Not smart.

Behind her, Hawke can hear Morrigan cursing savagely and the sound of rustling. Hawke's shoulders sag. "Aveline!" she says, relieved. "Who taught these men to attack without giving warning?"

"Ma'am there's a sceleratis in the room with her!"

Aveline stiffens, grip tightening. "Hawke, status," she snaps out, using her innate ability to weight souls to scan the person in front of her. No ping.

"There is not!" she snaps. "I'm with a summoner, that's an Eidolon. Everything's kosher here."

"What's your wife's favorite tea?" Aveline asks, feeling a sense of deja vu.

"Clover. And yours is Jasmine, and we last had a date night three days ago. I'm _fine_ ," she adds, knowing she's answered three of their Emergency Questions correctly in a row.

Aveline's eyes twitches. "Making sure you're you," she grits out. "...why are you na- right, never mind." _I didn't realize she knew a summoner this well?_ "Mitchell, Savans, move on to the next room while Lady Sage zi'Hawke dresses."

"What's happened?" she says, frowning. "Something I should be aware of?"

"There was- no. Hawke, I can't, you're a witness right now." Aveline winces. "And... for right now, a suspect. I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything. Step back into your room and you and your... friend can dress but not arm yourselves."

"I'm a _mage_ ," she says bluntly. "And I'm not-- I'm not in the best mindset right now, I'd appreciate your assurance there's no active danger before I disarm myself."

"...I have no reason to believe there is an ongoing threat," Aveline says carefully. "But it's possible the... suspect is still in the building."

Behind her, Morrigan has finished dressing. "Hawke, who attacked my eidolon ?" she demand waspishly. "Are they the guard?"

"It's fine, it was a misunderstanding, they'll be reprimanded," she says automatically, as she searches Aveline's face carefully for any sign of deceit or misleading. "Fine. We'll be here. Thank you."

Aveline winces. "Hawke, I... need to keep eyes on you, all of you, until this is... settled," Captain Vallen says carefully, eyes pleading for Hawke to be okay with this.

She narrows her eyes. "You can't trust me to look after Morrigan? No, I guess not," she adds, not pausing long enough for Aveline to answer. "Dammit, you can't expect me to --" She bites off, growling under her breath. "How can I help? As a Light?"

"Cooperate with the investigation," Captain Vallen says evenly. "Right now, that's all I can accept from you. You're a witness at most right now." A beat. "Please."

"And what about me?" Morrigan snaps.

"Your cooperation will also be appreciated," the captain says evenly. "In addition, please dismiss your eidolon until instructed otherwise."

Hawke lets out a soft growl of frustration, but she forces a nod out anyway. "Understood." She turns, then, heading to find her clothes.

"Thank you," Aveline whispers softly before Hawke goes too far. After that, she patiently stands in the doorway until Hawke is dressed. "Alright. If you'll both exit the room, we've set up a place to question people downstairs in the manager's office."

Morrigan scoffs wordlessly as she stomps towards the door.

With a sigh, Hawke chases after, pausing only to hand her staff to Aveline. "With your _life_ ," she growls. "It's my new birthday present." As opposed to the plan wooden staff she usually uses, this one's coated in dragon scales of multiple colors.

Aveline's eyes tighten but she just nods as she takes the staff. _I'm aware. I helped get the scales and pay for the crafting._ She glances at Morrigan, who chucks a bag at the guard. Pretty common magical bag design, so probably has most if not all of her stuff in it. A short walk, and Morrigan is settled onto a bench while Hawke is taken in to the office. Another moment passes, then another, then a guard with Lieutenant stripes walks in, Aveline a few steps behind him.

"Lt. Rawlins," the human male says briskly. "I'll be handling your questioning, Captain Vallen will merely be observing. Do you wish for any translation or legal assistance at this time?"

"No," says Hawke, watching him. She's taken the time to breathe deeply, to try and focus, to push through her irritation. "I am ready."

"Very good. Pleases state your full name and address," he orders, tone still crisp and professional. After she answers, Lt. Rawlins continues. "Please state your location during the period of nineteen hundred hours to twenty-three hundred hours last night?" Huh. Must be just after midnight.

"Room twenty-three."

"Of this establishment?" he presses. At the affirmative, he continues. "Can anyone confirm this?"

"I was with Morrigan and her eidolon."

"Would that be Morrigan of the Korcari Wilds?" the officer asks after a few second's of silence.

Hawke shrugs. "Sure? The woman I was rooming with when I was collected from room twenty-three this morning."

"You're not sure what her full name is?" Rawlins asks, frowning slightly. Aveline shifts uneasily from where she's leaning against the wall.

"No," she says, with a shrug. "Why?"

"What is the nature of your... business with Morrigan?" the guard asks instead of answering.

"Private," she says, with a frown. "I hired her for the night, as I have on two prior occasions. She's a prostitute," she adds, in case he didn't get it.

Aveline makes a strangled noise and starts to come off the wall before stopping herself. "I see. So the nature of your association is carnal? Not... academic or magically inclined?" Rawlins asks blandly.

"Entirely." Hawke shrugs. "I'm not interested in learning her speciality."

"And you didn't hire her to use her talents- arcane talents or knowledge?" Rawlins continues.

_Not tonight_ , she thinks. "Well, the eidolon was involved in our negotiated services, but that's not illegal."

"Of course," Rawlins agrees. "And you can confirm- for sure- that Morrigan will attest to being with you for the entirely of that time period? You never stepped out of sight to use the loo or anything?"

"Yes, we were together the whole night." Hawke confirms.

Rawlins nods slowly. "Very well. Did you notice anything unusual over the evening? Noises, scents, anything?"

_Unusual? Other than fucking a dem-- eidolon?_ "The first disturbance I noticed was the knocking. We were, ah, occupied."

"Did you notice anyone suspicious? Before you... went up to the room?"

"No." Her tone is a little more curt now. "It's a rented room, we went straight up."

"Alright. Do you know someone named Meldine Delou?"

"Never heard that name before."

"Alright," Rawlins says once again. He opens a file, then shows an artist's drawing of an aasimar man, with burnished copper skin and dark purple hair. "How about this face?"

_Very pretty,_ she thinks, smiling faintly. "Not familiar to me, no."

Rawlins studies Hawke for a moment, then nods. "Very well. Thank you Lady zi'Hawke for your cooperation. Please don't leave Nyra without leaving word, we may have more questions, but for now you're clear to go. A guard will escort you out of the building."

"And Morrigan?" _I still have to pay her the remainder of her fee, and it's only polite to walk her back home._

"Morrigan is still to be questioned," Rawlins replies as he stands up. "After you, Lady zi'Hawke," he says very pointedly, gesturing at the door.

"Well, I need to talk to her, so I'll just hang out until you're done with her." Hawke stands, but makes no move for the door yet. "Where shall I wait?"

"Home," Rawlins says firmly. "This is an active crime scene, you can't hang around."

She scowls, her hand dipping into her belt pouch. "Fine." She turns to Aveline, offering a few coins. "Give this to her, and tell her I'll be by tomorrow to discuss our next appointment?"

Aveline jerks away from the handful of coins. "I- Hawke, I am not going to-" Her neck has reddened and she's very carefully not looking at Rawlings.

"Then I need to stay on the premises," she says, voice firm. "It's immoral not to pay someone you've made an arrangement with."

"I- Rawlins could we-" Aveline breaks off before he can reply with a wince. "Of course not, sorry, that was- Hawke, I can't take or give money to a witness while on duty. Or off duty for that matter. You'll have to met up with... her later."

"She'll think I've stiffed her. That's not acceptable." Hawke keeps her tone calm, her gaze level.

Aveline stares at Hawke in frustration. "Hawke..."

"We can inform Miss Morrigan that you will contact her at a later date," Rawlings suggests.

"What if I wait at her place? So when she's released here I can pay her?" she asks, frustration leaking into her tone.

"We can't force you to go home, though there are laws against witness tampering or collusion," Rawlins says evenly.

"I'm hardly trying to tamper or collude anything. I'm just trying to complete my business transaction," she growls.

Rawlins nods easily. "Just a friendly caution, Lady zi'Hawke. Private Williams will escort you off the grounds."

"Fine." She sighs. "I know you're just doing your job, but there's got to be a better way you can let me do my business while you do yours." So saying, she drops the coins back in her pouch and turns to go.

As Hawke is escorted out, Hawke sees Aveline watching her leave with a look of conflicted guilt. Hawke doesn't seem to take notice, letting it wash over her. _We're going to have to talk about prostitution aren't we? Dammit, Aveline, this was just meant to be my night off, a little fun..._

Hawke isn't home five minutes before the thunderous silence drives her back outside, heading towards... crap. Zevran is who knows where, out corousing with Andy. Merrill is baby-sitting with Seli and the twins are likely fast asleep by now. Aveline... obviously not. Varric is owith Helene at Alydra's temple, using their ritual chamber... Wynne is likely fast asleep as well, it is an hour past midnight after all. Well, she could... go to Voice, see if Nox and Lux are free? Bug Rosalie- no, she's probably working, given that Zevran has off tonight.

Lux and Nox it is! Or at least, hopefully...

A short, frustrated walk later, and Hawke arrives at Voice. After midnight or not, the place is still moving. Not a slow night, but not all that busy either. There's a pair of humans, both males, dancing on the stage to some drum heavy number. The bar is more occupied than the tables though. A quiet question to the floor supervisor reveals that Nox and Lux have the night off, but if Lady zi'Hawke wants to go up and knock on their room, he's fairly sure they won't mind having a friend visit. Hawke hems and haws for a bit, drinking a cocktail as she ponders. But not very long. Inside of ten minutes, the drum beat has driven her to distraction, urging her to get up and move, waking a restlessness she can't seem to quell. She pays for her drink, finishes it, and heads up the stairs to knock on their door.

There's a pause, then some shuffling, then the door finally opens. Nox's face first shows annoyance, then pleasure as the identify of the interruption is revealed. "Hawke! What brings you to our humble selves this fine- does two count as morning or is it still night? I can never recall," he says gaily as he partially closes the door to undo the chain lock so he can let Hawke inside. The aasimar is wearing a thick, comfy looking robe, loosely belted so his silk sleeping pants can be seen.

"Sorry," she says with a small wince as she sees his face. "I didn't have anywhere else to go -- I was hoping not to sleep alone tonight, if you're up for company."

Nox frowns, then waggles a chiding finger at her. "Get in here, silly girl. I must admit to be surprised to hear that," he adds once she's inside. "Not having somewhere else to go," he clarifies. Across the room, Lux is looking up from a book. He's also wearing silk sleeping pants, though inside of a robe, he's wrapped up in a blanket. Doesn't look like they were 'up to anything' at least.

Hawke flashes Lux a smile. "I had plans for the evening, but they were abruptly cancelled. It's one of those rare nights where everyone is busy."

"Ah," Nox says knowingly. "That is the downside to having such... important and powerful people in your life. Sometimes duty calls or what have you. We were just having a lazy night, reading and such."

"We still have some wine and sugar cookies, if you'd like a bit of nibble?" Lux adds. "Do you have sleepwear or do you prefer nude?"

"I prefer nude, yes. And I would love some wine and sugar cookies," she adds, with a smile. "Duty wasn't the problem -- or it was, but in a strange way. Something happened at the inn I was spending the night at, and they split us up to question separately. We had nothing to do with it, but I guess because she's a whore and not one of my usual lovers, they were adamant I couldn't wait for her to be done and walk her home." She scowls at that.

Nox scowls. Nearly all whores get shit about their profession at some point, but he gets a double helping because 'surely someone with pavitra blood should be doing something less... demeaning/lewd/dirty/ignoble with their lives.' Lux gets it too, but people almost expect someone with his bloodline to do something 'base.' Which prejudice is worse... well. "Guards better than it used to be but nobody's perfect," Lux finally offers. "Go ahead and get comfy, Nox has spare robes if you want to were something for now. You sleepy or do you want to borrow a book and read a bit?" Or talk a bit, he expression adds silently.

"Reading sounds lovely. I might not sleep much tonight -- sometimes I don't. But reading will help."

"Well, this is afternoon for us," Lux says cheerfully. "We can dim the lights if you need to sleep-"

"-like you won't crawl into bed with her for cuddles and napping if she does-"

"-but otherwise we'll be up for a few more hours at least," the tiefling finishes with a glare at his twin.

"Perfect," says Hawke, with a warm smile. "I can go find Morrigan once it's properly day, then stop by Aveline for a.... talk," she says, with a low grumble, "and an apology pick-me-up."

Nox winces a little. "Ah. Thought it would be her," he murmurs, just audible.

Lux just nods. "Bookshelf is over there, robes over there. And most importantly, the wine is on the table."

"Her Morrigan or her Aveline?" Hawke sounds curious as she heads for the robes, unbuttoning her tunic.

That gets a sheepish wince from Nox. "Ah... Aveline," he admits awkwardly.

"I would say she's not that bad, but I don't know what she was thinking tonight. She knows I come here, it's never been a problem before.... Maybe she's just... Weird about Morrigan? She didn't react until I said she was a whore, but maybe it's less that and more the sex with a summoner thing?"

The twins exchange a glance, uncertain whether they should say something. "Perhaps," Lux finally hedges.

Hawke frowns, tying her robe closed. "Am I missing something?"

"We don't want to... come between-"

"Not come between," Lux interrupts his brother. "Cause trouble. It's nothing, Hawke. Oh, you need a glass, don't you? Let me just..."

Hawke shakes her head. "No, don't do that. I know Aveline and I are very different people. We've had a number of differences over the years. If there's something I need to know, tell me, and trust me to work it out with her."

Lux glares at his brother as he rises to fetch a glass. Nox however is... not braver, exactly, than his brother, but more accustomed to being able to speak. To act. The privilege of untainted beauty. "She has not said or done anything, exactly, but there are... little things," he says carefully. "She is... unfond of those our profession. Or those that hire us. Protective, yes, but also... She is the type that cannot believe that someone might be okay with, even enjoy, this life. That all whores are in need of saving, from themselves if nothing else."

"There are far worse types in the world," Nox says firmly, pouring Hawke a glass of wine. "If naught else, Coalside is safer for whores, even streetwalkers, than it's been in a hundred years or more."

Hawke nods. "I'll have a talk with her. In truth, I wonder if it's my fault -- I may have mentioned that I was... heading down a bad road as a girl, and perhaps she doesn't see the difference between a streetwalker pressed into it by desperate poverty and people who love doing this job."

Nox shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe her parents hated whores for their own reasons and she simply learned from them. She's a good sort, from nearly all accounts, and she's never been less than polite to anyone I know, just..."

"Condescending," Lux supplies. "Kindly meant, perhaps, but patronizing and just a little... Disgusted it too strong. But she shifts away from us, though I don't think she realizes she does it."

Hawke nods. "I know exactly the tone you mean," she admits with a sigh. "Thank you."

Lux silently offers her the wineglass as his brother does a wan smile. "We do like her, as much as one can like someone they don't really know," he says with a sigh.

Hawke takes the glass. "I wish she were more adventurous in bed. It'd make a good pretense to spend an evening together." She has a sip of wine.

Nox frowns. "A good... pretense? Do you... think you need that sort of thing?" he asks carefully.

Hawke shrugs. "I pretty much always relate to people through sex. It's... hard for me to figure out how to connect with people without it."

"So have sex without sex," Lux says with a shrug, causing his twin to roll his eyes.

"What my brother means to say is that sex isn't always done naked or involve touching at all. Imagine... whatever it is you do with her as a scene."

She frowns a little. "How does that work? I mean, sure, I can play pretend I'm more confident or whatnot, but that doesn't make something sex."

"Foreplay," both of them say in unison, then snicker.

"Sorry, whore joke. Everything is foreplay." Lux shakes his head. "Anyway, what I meant is... have you ever done a... roleplay scene? Pretending to, I dunno, be a pirate queen who is toying with the young noble lady that's trying to seduce you for her father's freedom? Or I had a client last week that wanted to pretend to be a Cirenite 'converting' me to her flock with her body. In this case... do a scene where you're married or the like. But don't rush for the sex. Let it build. Enjoy the process for its own sake."

She frowns. "But... what's the _point_ if we're not getting naked?" she wonders aloud.

"Dear girl, not everything in life is about fucking," Nox chides her. "And this is a professional speaking, mind you."

"It's about intimacy and bonding," Lux chimes in. "Nox and I... we are lovers," he says, tone wary despite his trust for Hawke at the admission. Most people assume it's just a marketing ploy, either in that they're not actually lovers or not actually twins. But they are, and most of those that have realized this, have reacted... poorly. "But we have far less sex than I suspect you think. Honestly..."

"Perhaps twice in the last month? At most? Aside from work, of course. Being with him, between together, is enough," Nox says softly, eyes on his other half.

Hawke's eyes nearly pop out of her head, and she sputters for one heart-stopping moment before she finds words: "TWICE?! In a MONTH?! I'd lose my mind if I was intimate with even Aveline that little! I-- well, alright, sorry, I know you get plenty of sex, it's just, sex with new partners is the vast minority of what I do. It's just not all that interesting anymore. I maybe have sex with whores two or three times in a month, and I never sleep alone. Divide by four or five steady lovers..."

Lux shakes his head. "To think a Light has more sex than nine tenths of the whores in this building," he says with a snicker.

"But yes Hawke. Most nights, we just hold each other. Be with each other. Love is far more important than sex." Nox agrees, eyes drifting to the symbol of Astea on their wall.

"Sure, but..." She shakes her head. "Like I said, sex is a huge part of how I relate to people."

"You're smart, learn a new method," Lux suggests. "Take up a new hobby with her. Learn to cook- your Papa sure never taught you how," he adds, grinning. Varric's 'cooking' is legendary in the right circles...

She stares sidelong at him. "How? I haven't-- gods, I haven't had a non-sex friend I hung out with regularly since.... well, since I first moved to Nyra. Just Papa."

"What about the delightful Andy?" Lux asks with a bit of a leer. "You are not exactly his type."

"I mean, he follows me around so much, outside of training I mostly can't wait to get away from him," she says with a blush. "I love him to death, but it sucks being minded anyway."

"I doubt he enjoys it that much, especially given it seems to be costing him your friendship," Nox says with a wrinkled nose.

"Yet another reason I'm glad we didn't enlist as Father dearest wanted us to," Lux mutter sourly, a sneer forming.

Hawke sighs. "I know. I'm trying. It just... I hate the idea that I need babysitting. I'll work something out."

"Why _do_ you have a, as you put it, a minder?" Nox asks curiously.

"Honestly? Because I don't file reports and when I do, they're indecipherable. The guard and the other Lights need to know what I'm up to, and I won't tell them in a reliable fashion, not when I'm onto something."

"so... he's a combat capable secretary?" Lux asks with amusement. "That kind of sounds handy."

"That or the friendliest spy I've ever met," she says with a sigh. "No, you're right. I should look on the bright side."

"Have you ever sat down and talked this over with Andy? He and his wife are very good friends, no? I'm sure he'd be willing to... loosen things up a bit if you asked," Lux suggests.

"What does Seli have to do with it?"

"As I understand it, you met him through her," Lux says with a shrug. "Friends of yours, I meant. Though presumably of each other as well, one would hope."

"Oh! I was very confused," she laughs. "Yes, we're... huh. Come to think of it, I've not fucked either of them. But we have a _thing_ : Andy is my apprentice and Seli is my confidant."

"So... have a _thing_ with Aveline, in addition to also being her lover," Nox chimes in. "Take up a hobby with her. Or maybe learn something together. Lux and I are learning to play the harp together. It's..."

"Very much a work in progress," Lux says with a shudder.

She sighs. "I should. I will. If I can find the time."

"Enough heavy talk for now," Lux says firmly. "Read a little. There's the sofa there, or Nox likes to cuddle if you don't mind him leaning on one of your arms while you try to read." He grins then, winking at Nox as he flips him off.

"I would love a cuddle," she laughs.

"See? Someone appreciates me and my fine cuddles," Nox says dramatically, turning with a flounce as he flops on the bed.

And is promptly hit with a thrown sofa pillow.

She grins, curling up beside Nox. "Yeah, this was the right call."

"Sexy twins are always the right call," Nox says with a sage nod as he pull her close.

After tossing the pillow back of course.

...which is hurled back once again, this time catching Hawke in the shoulder. Both twins go still, looking for her reaction.

"Oh, now you've done it," she crows. She grabs the pillow, launching it at Lux.

It's nearly ten in the morning when the trio are awoken by a rapid triple knock on the door. The pillow fight had raged for nearly a half hour, if one counts the tickle war in the middle of both pillow stages as part of the whole thing. After exhausting themselves with that, they'd all read for a bit more, then the twins had tortured Hawke with five minutes of harp practice- a work _very_ much in progress- and then finally a quick bath and sleep. Strangely, some of the most dreamless and restful sleep Hawke can recall in quite a while.

After rising, grabbing a quick meal and dressing- in that order, one of the benefits of being in a brothel is the dress code being so flexible- Hawke heads home. Letting herself in, she's rather quickly faced with an unusual scene. Two mabari greeting her at the door and, a few steps further in, the sight of Aveline slumped over at the kitchen table, apparently fast asleep. "Aveline," she breathes, then runs to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm here, what's wrong?"

Aveline jerks upright in the seat, eyes glazed with poor sleep. Then sharp with pain as her back reprimands her for sleeping this way- and in her armour no less. She lets out a hiss of pain as she tries to focus. "Hawke? What are you- this isn't my house?"

"What's wrong, what's happened?" she asks again, gripping her shoulder. "I spent the night at Voice, I've just come home."

"I- It's-" She glances at the window. "It's morning? I must have fallen... I was waiting for you to come back and..." Aveline yawns, then shakes her head, trying to wake up. "What time is it?" A beat. "Wrong? What's wrong?"

It's a bit telling, how disoriented she is. When they were traveling, or the rare occasion they've adventured overnight together, the paladin comes awake near instantly and completely, even in an inn or a secure camp. The only time she doesn't is when they're at Aveline's home. Or Hawke's evidently.

"You came to my place instead of going home, and you fell asleep at my table," says Hawke, more gentle, her eyes worried. "I figured something had to be wrong for you to be that--" She pauses, frowning, and takes a step back, evaluating the situation again. She sighs. "You were waiting up for me to get home. You just came over seeking companionship? Not because anything went wrong?" She rakes a hand through her short hair. "I'm sorry, if I'd known I would have.."

By this point, Aveline seems to be waking up properly. She stretches, carefully, her expression a little wary. "I... just meant to wait for a bit. I didn't realize... I must have lost track of time and nodded off." She pauses there, a frown forming. "You said... you were at Voice? I thought Zevran was with Andy," she says, a hint of guard slipping into her voice. "He mentioned as much when he requested the time off..."

"He is," she confirms. "I don't always go to Voice just to visit him."

Aveline shifts a little in her seat, though it might just be her stretching some more. "Oh. Right. Well." She slowly gets to her feet, then looks around. "Beka?" she calls out lightly, a call quickly answered by two canine heads peeking around the door. "Need to step out?" Both of them enter the room fully, stances alert. "Can you make tea while I..?"

"Sure. I'll pull together some breakfast too, somehow. Oh, can you cook, by the way? Someone suggested maybe either you can teach me or we could learn how together."

"Yes of course- you've eaten meals I've made plenty of times. Did you not sleep again?" she ask, giving Hawke a hard look as she heads for the backdoor.

"I mean like, cook-for-fun cook. Souffles or whatever. Baking. That kind of thing."

Aveline lets the two mabari out, giving Beka an apologetic look at not going out with her as she normally does. Turning back, she gives Hawke a bemused look. "You... Hawke, I eat nearly the same thing everyday what I do on our date nights. That's not... extra effort, it's just normal cooking. Well, aside from special nights. But mostly, that's the level of cooking I always do."

She rubs the back of her neck. "Okay, great, so, uh, then you can teach me and... it'll be fun?"

Aveline studies her for a moment, then steps closer with her hands reaching out. "Hawke is... something... wrong? Are you..." She fumbles a moment, then asks nervously, "are you... unsatisfied? With... us?"

"Not the way you mean," she says instantly. "It's just -- I'm looking for something you're into that we can do so we can spend more time together. I mean, I've made a ton of similar requests of Zevran about teaching me sex stuff, and Merrill's tried to show me stuff about spirits, and Anders used to teach me about communism, but you and I don't really have a... special thing? And I want one? With you?" _I should maybe have slept more, I sound like Merrill._

Aveline pales a little, looking lost and hurt. "We... you don't consider what we have as special?" she asks in a small voice, one Hawke's never heard from the paladin before. Or... well, no. She has. Late at night in bed, held close to Hawke. When Aveline talked about the day Wesley died.

She looks stricken. "What? No! That's not at all what I meant, of course what we have is special. But we don't have a... a thing. A, I don't know, activity. A date night activity that's just for us. That's all I meant!"

Aveline searches Hawke's face desperately and a bit of the pain leeches out of her. "Sorry, I just-" She rubs her face. "I... didn't sleep well. Some... bad thoughts that followed me into slumber I guess. Can we... start this over? The conversation, I mean?"

Hawke pauses, then frowns. "Can I... know what the bad thoughts were?"

Aveline winces noticeably. "Ummm. Bad ones?" she dithers. Aveline is fairly good at talking, negotiating and such. But she sucks and subterfuge, at least for someone at Hawke's level.

Hawke sighs. "Then no, we can't start the conversation over, because we have to go ahead and have the other conversation I'd hoped to put off." She pinches the bridge of her nose, mulling over the best entry point.

"I- what? Hawke, I'm really confused now," Aveline says, voice tight. "What are we talking about?"

She rakes a hand through her hair, deciding on the blunt approach. "Aveline... what do you have against prostitutes?"

"W-what?" Aveline says, flushing. "I- well, it's- it's... large and by, an unsafe and... exploited... field. Prone to... crime, both by and to those in." As she speaks, her voice firms, Captain Vallen taking over. "In order to make it safer, it's been regulated, supervised, to moderate success. However, that just means that those that are desperate- or greedy- enough to avoid the regulation are often even worse off."

Hawke holds up a hand. "No, stop. I'm not asking about the law. I'm asking about Aveline."

The paladin fumbles, wincing at being called on her attempt at evasion. "It's... it's not right," she mutters, staring at the floor.

"Why not?" she asks, her voice soft.

"It's just- it's not. That should be... accepting coin for... that should be for love," Aveline mutters. "It should be more than just... service. It's shameful and demeaning."

"So," she begins slowly. "What I did last night was... shameful? I am now lesser in your eyes?"

Aveline flinches a little, looking away. "Not... lesser. Just... I don't..." She takes a deep breath. "I don't... approve of what you did, no. I... it doesn't make me love you any less, I just... I can't understand."

"Do you... often feel that way?"

"I just... you have so many people that love you, why do you need to..." She swallows. "I... if you... need... more, couldn't... Zevran or... I could try to... want..."

There's a snap of cold in the air, an audible cracking as the cold floods in -- but also, a duller thud noise. That's new. Oh wait. That wasn't the cold or magic -- that was Hawke's butcher knife, expertly thrown to lodge in the wall, where it wobbles, a silent reprimand.

"Leave." Her voice would be inaudible if it weren't so deathly silent in here. Hawke stares straight ahead at the wall opposite, not looking at Aveline.

"Hawke?" Aveline asks carefully, taking a step towards the magus before her command registers. "What..?"

"Leave. Now." Her voice is firm, but there's a hint of panic underneath as the temperature continues to race to the bottom.

"I'm not leaving you when you're having a break down," Aveline says firmly. _Even without my shield, Hawke would have to try, hard, to seriously hurt me. Not that I'd care, at least not anymore than the guilt she'd feel for it later._

"Get out!" she screams, a howl of panic and pain.

"I will **not** leave you!" Aveline shouts back.

Hawke turns then, running from the room, out the front door since Aveline is by the back one. She doesn't go far -- she stops in the front yard, dropping to her knees and dry-heaving into the snow on the lawn. Or. Well, there's snow in this little patch of lawn anyway.

Aveline follows after, though she stops a yard or two away. "Hawke, what's- what did I say?" she asks, pain ripping through her. _I knew she's be- that this would be... painful to talk about but I don't- what did I say to provoke this?_

She can barely hear her; all she can hear is, _now I have given you better than he._ A deep breath. Another. The heaves subside, a little. She pushes the panic away a little more. "I-- wasn't expecting--" she croaks, wiping at her mouth.

"Hawke... I'm going to approach you, just enough to heal you, okay?" Aveline says softly, voice low and soothing. Captain Vallen's voice, the one she uses when approaching wounded or scared victims.

"don't need," she gasps. "Just-- just stay back."

"Hawke, you just threw up for- please let me help. What's wrong?" Aveline asks urgently.

_You have to tell her what's wrong. She needs to know. She-- **don't think about it.** Just say something. Anything. _ "R-rose--" she begins, in a whisper.

"Rose?" _What do flowers have to do with anything? Alright, think. Go over things. We weren't talking about flowers. There are flowers in the backyard, some visible from the kitchen, but no roses. Merrill doesn't grew them, even since-_ "What? Why did that-" _'I could try to want-' **Fuck.**_ "Hawke, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry, please. It didn't happen, you would never have let me- it didn't happen," she says urgently, coming around so she can kneel a few feet in front of Hawke.

"Just," she whispers, steadying herself. "Just... I can't. I can't talk about this, I can't breathe, I can't--" _You can, Hawke. Figure this out. Pull out of it. Take a deep breath. Keep breathing. Ride it out. It will pass._

"Focus on breathing. In and out. Don't worry about what we were-" She cuts off. "So I've been working with Beka on a new trick. Well, not really a trick, exactly. A new combat maneuver. We had a drunk wizard with a bat familiar that was webbing a shop last week and it made it clear that Beka's training against flight capable combatants is even worse than mine," she says, just trying to start a soft, even flow of words for Hawke to listen to instead of her... head.

_Focus on breathing. In and out._ She lets the words wash over her, focusing on her breath as it slowly begins to take on an even, slow cadence. Aveline keeps her her rambling until Hawke seems to have centered herself enough to be thinking again. After she runs out of things to go on about with Beka, she switches over to random stories about work. Never anything serious, nor even all that funny really. Just... normal. Mundane. Finally, Hawke lifts her head, meeting Aveline's eyes, an empty smile on her lips. "Not Sargent Baynard?" she says, anticipating the punchline of this story.

"Who else?" Aveline says after a slight pause. "....can... how's your stomach? Can I...?" she lifts a hand, offering a healing.

She shakes her head. "Just nerves. I'll be fine." There's a pause as she runs down some mental math, then sighs. "Walk me to Voice? I have friends there, and you need some real sleep."

Aveline flinches. "...of course. I'll... get Silence and Beka. Ummm." She glances up. "It's... almost noon, or a little past. Won't... wouldn't Varric be at work? You could... I could walk you there," she suggests.

She gives Aveline a hard look. "He doesn't know how to handle this. He'd rather never think about it again."

"Oh. Right. I... didn't think of that angle. I just... I know he's your... Papa, I just..." Aveline nods curtly. "I'll be right back with the mabari."

Hawke nods, looking down. _Don't be cruel. This has to be handled, but it doesn't have to be right now. Papa would try his best if you turn up -- and he could walk you to Voice, too, if you really wanted him to, or send a runner. You know he'd close up shop and look after you if you turned up like this.Still.. Zevran's sure to be home by now, and if not, Nox and Lux would take me in, too. Anyone would, anyone Clan or Clannish._

Aveline returns in a moment, the two mabari instantly going to Hawke to nuzzle and sniff. Even if they couldn't hear from the backyard- and they likely could- they'd be able to detect how shook up she is. Watching, Aveline clears her throat, then manages, "do... do you need to grab anything before we go? Or will Voice have... whatever you need?"

_The only thing I need is warm, safe arms and a shoulder to cry on._ She sighs. "Seli might be home by now."

"It's your choice Hawke. I... I've fucked this up enough already, I'm not going to... Whatever you need," Aveline says softly.

"Zevran's probably hungover, and the Twins spent the night with me already. Rosalie's got a son and--" She cuts off. "Seli."

"Okay. Seli it is," Aveline says quickly. "Do... do you want to... lean on me or... should I... stay back?" she forces herself to ask. Whatever she needs.

"I can't." She embraces Silence for a moment, taking comfort in her dog, then grips Beka's collar to help her to her feet. "Let's go."

The two mabari crowd around her a little, offering support and protection as they walk. Aveline, face pale but placid after her first grimace, follows after them at a slight distance. Eventually, they arrive at Seli and Andy's place. "How... do you want me to knock or..?"

Hawke nods, hanging back. "If she's not back, we'll go to Papa's office."

Aveline nods, moving to the door and knocking. After a moment, Seli opens the door with a smile. The pair talk briefly, Seli leaning around Aveline to give Hawke a worried look after a few exchanges. They talk a few seconds more, then Aveline heads back over to Hawke. "She's going to ask Merrill to take the twins out to lunch and then to the temple for a few hours," she say softly. "We can go around back if you... don't want to pretend in front of them."

She nods. "Thank you," she whispers, hot tears forcing their way to the surface.

Aveline nods jerkily. "Do... do you want me to... go?" she asks carefully, trying so very hard to keep her voice even and neutral. Failing at it.

Beka whines softly, nuzzling her person's hand to try and offer comfort even as her older sister presses her head into Hawke's stomach gently.

Hawke bows her head, wanting to say yes, unable to bring herself to. "No," she whispers.

"...alright. I'll... I'll be home until nine tonight as normal," Aveline says in a pained voice. She's not the best at lying, but spotting a lie? Even a shaded truth? That she can do. "I'm not off until Silvaday," three days from today. "If... if you want to talk, I'll be home," she says, swallowing.

Hawke nods. "I'll remember. Thank you, Aveline. Be safe." She gives a nod to Beka, then, taking Silence with her, heads for the back door.

Aveline flinches as if struck but manages a nod back. Patting her leg, she calls Beka to her and strides off, glad to have her back to Hawke so he face is hidden.

Silence whines softly as they go around to the backyard to wait for Seli. Once Hawke is still, she rather forcefully body checks the back of her legs, a mabari's not so subtle way of requesting their human kneel or sit down. Silence is old enough to know just how hard to hit to make it clear it wasn't an accident without taking Hawke off her feet thankfully. Hawke gladly kneels, wrapping her arms around her dog as she hangs on tightly. _Good person. Please stop being sad._ Silence groans in sympathy, happily allowing Hawke to cling as tightly as she needs.

After a few minutes, they can hear a pair of voices, young and excited, shouting from the front of the house. They're joined by an older but no less excited voice. Soon enough, the voices begin to fade down the street. Silence shifts a little, giving Hawke a few seconds warning before the back door opens.

"Hey," Seli says gently. "You want to come inside or enjoy the sun?"

"Inside," she says softly, her voice muffled by fur. A moment later, gathering her courage, she stands, releasing Silence as she heads inside.

Seli opens the door for Hawke, watching with worried eyes. "Do you want to sit in the kitchen... curl up in bed, pace..?"

"I think... I think tea," she says slowly. "Is that alright?"

"Of course," Seli says lightly. "Come sit in the kitchen and I'll make you some nice black tea. And maybe some berry scones? Or I could scramble some eggs?" Silence stays right by her side, lightly pressing against her person's hip.

Hawke nods, one hand clutching at Silence's fur as she follows Seli to the kitchen. "Scones are good," she agrees, meekly. "I'm sorry to cause a fuss, I just... need someone to look after me for a bit while I get my feet back under me."

"That's what Clan is for, isn't it? Looking out for each other?" Seli says with pride. "You took care of Andy and I after... after Lovan died. Merrill has been a treasure for helping with the twins- she'll be a wonderful mother," she says lightly, the happy mother in her wanting to plant a little seed but the friend in her not wanting to push, particularly right now. "And Zevran has really helped Andy feel more comfortable in his own skin. Nox and Lux as well, and with, ah," Seli blushes lightly, "keeping him... helping him relax. And... me, sometimes. Still no luck at all with finding a third for us so it's been good they've been there for him." As she talks, she starts heating water and warming up the oven.

Hawke stifles a little whimper, sitting at the table and resting her head on her arms. "I need advice."

Seli gently lays a hand on Hawke's shoulder, ready to pull away at the first hint of tension. "Of course. That's my calling," she says kindly.

She hesitates, trusting Seli but unsure how to proceed. "Someone-- oh hell, you've met everyone, you'll know who I mean. Aveline said... some unkind things about..." She hesitates again, settling finally on the common term: "whores."

Seli gives Hawke's shoulder a rub. "Go on," she says, voice still kind and nonjudgmental.

"She..." Hawke sighs. "I make so many excuses for her. I try so hard to prove to everyone she's not your typical stick-in-the-mud Vangalite. She's not going to smite someone based on their dark skin, or hate someone based on how they fuck. But... she does look down on whores. And on me, for renting them."

_This... is bothering her more than I realized. But how much of it is bound up in Aveline triggering her Rosemary trauma, how much is built up stress in their relationship and how much is actually about this fight specifically?_ "Why? Why do you make excuses for her? Do you think she needs to be excused for what she does?"

"No, it's just... she's chosen a hard god to follow for the kinds of people I make friends with, is all. I tell them, not all Vangalites are, you know, Vangalites. But she..." She sighs.

"It hurts that you've finally come up against something she can't bend on. Or at least, hasn't bent yet," Seli says, still rubbing Hawke's back as she waits for the kettle to boil. "Has this ever come up before?"

She shakes her head. "She's been around Zevran. She knows I go to Voice, that I have friends there. But... I guess she didn't know I also paid for sex when I had nights away from her. She..." Here Marian's voice cracks. "She offered to... to try harder, to fill the... needs I had."

_Ah. Yeah... already stressed about something, a comment that might have just given her pause another day... yeah._ "And that caused a flashback," Seli says with understanding. "Did... did she explain why she feels this way?"

"She said they were... she gave me a line about being prone to abuse, and then... she said it was... degrading." The last word is a whisper.

"Degrading?" Seli asks, a touch surprised. "From the talks I've had with her, she seems to have an almost... reverence for for lovemaking, so that... oh. " Seli pauses as a conclusion finishes formly. And then the kettle beings to whistle. "Damit, sorry." She steps away from Hawke to pour tea and toss somes scones in the oven to warm.

Hawke ponders as Seli bustles, resting her forehead on her arms. When Seli calms, she lifts her head, a wry smile on her lips that doesn't match her eyes. "Did I ever tell you, my mother accused me of being a whore? She thought I was selling myself to Varric, of all the stupid ideas. I told her he was my pimp, and she... well, it doesn't matter now. But that was always the threat I had looming over me as a girl: if I didn't bring in enough money, I'd have to sell myself. If I couldn't find employment, I'd have to sell myself. I hated it. I wanted nothing to do with whores until I met Zevran."

"The life of a streetwalker- or even a whore in an unlicensed brothel- can be... well, it's often as not slavery in makeup. Drugs, abuse, rape... there's a very good reason why Zevran is being considered for cannoniz-" Seli cuts off with a wince and a muttered curse. "Please keep that to yourself, I shouldn't have..."

Her smile grows a touch more genuine. "It's fine. Apparently I'm in a similar situation with Astea." She shakes her head, letting her smile fade. "I know. That's part of why it hurts -- I thought Aveline understood what Zevran was doing, how he was changing Nyra, why I supported his mission. Instead, she conflates _his_ brothel with streetwalking, and assumes... what, about me? That I'm a sex-crazed maniac, that I overlook the next thing to slavery because I need sex that badly, that I tolerate Zevran rather than love him for who he is.." She shakes her head.

Seli frowns a little as she sets a mug of tea in front of Hawke, along with a jar of honey and some cream. "Did she say any of that or are you 'worst-casing' yourself again?" she says gently but a touch knowingly.

"She asked me why I need so much sex, if I have so many lovers, why I..." she whispers, her voice cracking. "My mother always said I would end up a whore, and now it feels like... like she was right, like I'm broken, like I need too much sex."

Flicking the oven off so the scones don't char, Seli comes over to wrap her arms around Hawke. Leaning over like this isn't very comfortable, but she can deal. "Hey now... Sex, of any amount, isn't a problem in and of itself. Now, if you start using sex as a way to avoid intimacy or as a bandage to cover up problems... then yes, it can be an issue. But there's nothing wrong with wanting to be with the people you love or even just care about. Just. As if there's something wrong with caring about someone."

"How can you use sex, the most intimate thing, to avoid intimacy?" asks Hawke, her voice still choppy as she struggles to keep it level.

"Sex isn't the most intimate thing," Seli disagrees. "Lovemaking yes, but sex can be cold and empty if you let it. And even if it's good sex, great sex, full of passion and joy and love, it can still be used to avoid talking about problems or growing closer to someone." She sighs gently, resting her head against Hawke's. "Sex and love aren't the same thing Hawke. Closely related, yes, deeply intertwined even. But not the same. I think you and Aveline both have trouble separating them. And that's why it bothers her- prostitution I mean. I'll be honest, I suspect she's largely asexual. Not to say she doesn't enjoy sex, but she'd probably be violently ill if she tried to lay with someone she didn't love. And she can't understand how others can." Her nose wrinkles. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's never really talked much about sex. A friend of mine knew her parents and they were... good people, friendly, but prudish."

Hawke nods. "I know. I-- what I did with Morrigan last night wasn't love. But... sex is... sex is how I connect to people. I need that connection, Seli, I-- I can't imagine having sex as little as some people I know. Apparently I have more sex than Zevran's whores." She pauses. "I never sleep alone."

"So.. you don't consider the two of us- or you and your father- to be connected?" Seli asks pointedly. "I knew very well you love us both. Do you honestly think you'd love Varric more than you do now if you fucked?" she asks, being deliberately crude for emphasis.

She looks at her hands. "Not... love him more, but know him better. Feel more connected. I-- it's different for Papa, mostly, but with you... yes. I... I want that connection, I want that... type of thing."

"Why? What do you think you'd learn about me? Other than the trivial, details of how I react during sex and such? And honestly you could find that out just by asking me, if they were really all that important to you to know." Seli probes gently.

"I..." she begins, staring down at her hands. She bites her lip, really thinking it through. Finally, she looks up, something hurt and broken in her eyes. "I would know you really loved me. It feels like, if you don't want some part of me, the sex part, then you must not really want me after all."

"Oh Hawke..." Seli says with deep compassion, shifting around so she's kneeling next to Hawke, though she keeps one arm more or less around the magus. "You can be so silly sometimes," she finishes in exactly the same tone. "No-one loves each and very part of someone. People are far too complex and... mortal for that. Lovan could be so scatterbrained- I don't think he ever remembered a single appointment or date without Andy or I prompting him. Andy, after a bloody decade of living with me, still forgets to knock when coming into the bathroom at least once a month. And I know very well that the way I insist on interfering with his wardrobe choices annoys the shit out of him. That doesn't mean we don't love each other." She smiles up at Hawke. "I love you, Hawke. You're my best friend and the sister I always wanted."

"It's.. it's different," she protests, voice weak and strained. "When I am... When I have sex, it's the most raw, most... naked... I ever get. It's a way to, to, appreciate my body, to be present together in the same moment, with the same passion... Striving together to reach a shared goal. Sex is who I am, what I have to offer."

Seli's eyes harden. "Don't you dare say something so- so- restrictive about someone I love," the priestess snaps. "Sex is wonderful and your love of it divine- but it is not all you have to offer." She jabs at Hawke with her free hand. "If you asked any of your Clan, whether they would give up sex with you or your love, I know damn well each and every one of us would pick your heart over your body in an _instant_."

She lowers her head, eyes welling up with tears. "I don't really know how to not be sexual with people. I don't know how to be... intimate, without sex or the promise of it."

"Of course you do," Seli says, resting her head against Hawke again. "It's just like with Varric and I. We love you. Deeply. We'll never have sex, but that doesn't mean I can't love you. Or that he doesn't. It's just like that."

"Just.... like this? And that's... enough? I don't have to be..."

"Just like this," Seli says gently. "You, every bit of you, any half of you, is enough. Your heart is such a wonder Hawke. I could never see you again, never do more than hear your words in the wind and I'd love you." She smiles, the curving of her lips tactile against Hawke's shoulder. "I love hugging you, holding you, but that just makes it better. It's not required."

Hawke is quite for a few moments, closing her eyes, drinking in the feel of Seli, the sound of her voice, the smell of her clothes. Finally, she says, "when... I got back to Varric's, after Rosemary, I told him... I liked that there was someone who liked me with my clothes on. I should try to remember that more often. Try to stop... underselling myself."

"You're wiser than you credit yourself with being," Seli says with a fond love. _And I'm glad I stuck to not having sex with you. I do find you attractive, and gods know I love you, but it just never felt right. Maybe this was why._ "You're such a wonderful person, with so much to offer... It's... well, it's a lot like how people look at Ciren. Everyone focuses on the sex part of passion. Which is a shame, because there's so much more to it. To you."

Hawke nods. "I don't want anyone to feel like they have to fuck me to...oh." She blushes, stifling a small yawn. "I shouldn't feel like i have to fuck them either."

"You're adorable," Seli says with a laugh, rising to her feet. She kisses Hawke firmly on the forehead. "You remind me of Gilly in that way. She's willing to fight a bear to make sure Tomas goes to bed on time, eats well, bathes, gets to play with the blocks at school but doesn't take care of herself half the time." She pops open the oven to get the scones out. _Good, not burnt a'tall._

"I may have--" she pauses to yawn again. "I may have been accused of that. Once or twice."

"Eat some scones," Seli says. "And then I'll tuck you into bed. You need sleep after all that emotional upheaval."

"As you say, mum," she teases, with a sappy smile.

Seli flushes a little at the title, but she looks well pleased. "Would you like a bedtime story?" she teases, though... to Hawke's ear, she sounds like she's only half-joking.

"Only if it's one of Gilly's," she chuckles. "That girl is going to be an amazing writer someday. Or bard. Or whatever."

"Potter now, actually. Evidently the fact that some people are paid to play with mud all day is alluring to a four-year old," Seli says with motherly despair. "Who would have guessed?" She nudges the plate closer to Hawke rather pointedly. "And no slipping those to Silence, I'll get her some beef strips in a minute." On the other side of Hawke, a pleased grunt can be heard from the furry head laying on Hawke's thigh.

Hawke takes a scone, smiling faintly. "Of course. It's mud. Mud is amazing."

Seli gives her a raised eyebrow over her shoulder as she gets out some raw beef strips. _One or two won't make a bit difference for tonight's dinner_. "You'd best not give her any more ideas than she gets on her own about the matter. At least until she learns the difference between clay and mud."

"You know me," she teases, waiting for the inevitable punchline.

"And I love you," Seli says, not going for the joke. She sets down a plate with the meat on it but doesn't cue Silence, knowing the mabari will eat from her hand but will be happier if Hawke cues her.

Hawke strokes Silence's head a few times, then signals her, taking another scone for herself. "I love you too, Seli."

Washing her hands, Seli moves back to the table and takes a seat. "And you're a horrible influence on my twins, exactly the way an aunt should be," she adds. "Tomas still wears that shirt you loaned them months ago all the time. Only four year old at school with a custom tailored dreamspider silk shirt," she says with a headshake.

"I know what to get them for their birthday next," she jokes.

"You spoil them." _And bless you for it. For doing it right, as well. For letting them have nice things, without making them expect nice things. For giving them family..._ "Come on, let's get you to bed. Do you need to wash first?"

She shakes her head. "No, but don't let me sleep all day. I have to go pay Morrigan later."

"Just a few hours, until Merrill comes back? I... you're probably fine, but I'd feel better if you weren't alone for a bit," Seli admits.

She nods. "Alright. But I'd rather not get into... this morning with Merrill if I can help it. Can we just say I needed to talk and came over?"

Seli purses her lips, then shrugs. "I suppose this is between you and Aveline," Seli allows. "It might not be a bad idea to at least mention you had a flashback to Rosemary and just not mention why it came up."

Hawke nods, stifling another yawn. "That's fair. Thanks."

Seli smiles, then pulls Hawke to her feet. "Come on, lil'sis. I have a nightdress that should fit you well enough if you want it. Little baggy and short on you but it'll cover most of you." She gives Hawke a glance. "And... do you want me to stay with you after storytime?"

Hawke smiles back. "I'd like that. If it's not too much trouble."

"As long as you behave yourself," Seli says, real seriousness until her playful tone. "If nothing else, the twins have low respect for closed but unlocked doors. And... I'm not sure, but I think Tomas might have magicked open my jewelry chest last week. I might have just forgotten to lock it but..."

Her eyes light up. "Oh, that would-- if either of them show an aptitude, can I teach them their cantrips?"

"Who else would I trust as much as you to teach them?" Seli says without an instant of hesitation. "I mean, Varric is... skilled, but I'm not sure he'd do well teaching novices."

"Merrill," she says with a laugh. "But my magic's way more traditional."

"Perhaps if they were shamans or druids or the like," Seli says, a trifle dubiously. _Merrill is sweet but... a bit... distractible for someone teaching young children. She's a wonderful babysitter and minder, but perhaps not a teacher._ Once they're at Seli's room, she pulls out a robe, then politely goes to turn down the bed with her back to Hawke.

Hawke chuckles as she pulls off her shirt. "She'd try anyway. She loves kids, and she likes to be helpful."

"She's great with them," Seli agrees with a fond smile. Talk drifts to other topics as such talks often do. After the third time Hawke wriggles around, trying to get comfortable, Seli orders her to strip. "Won't be the first time they see a nude person nor the last. I don't want them growing up thinking it's shameful anyway. Just trying to avoid giving Certain Talks until they're a bit older, thank you." During the second of Gilly's stories- yet another one starring a pirate madame that uses a staff and shield with a flying cat named Dianca- Hawke manages to drift off. A bit more than two hours later and the sounds of happy shouting and laughter inform the the two ladies that Merrill is back.

Oh, and the twins.

Pleased yells and a obviously false mournful bark announce that Silence's presence has been noted, which leads to a new game for the suddenly reenergized youths. Merrill pops into the bedroom shortly and just as eagerly pounces on the hastily robed Hawke. Cuddles and greetings are exchanged of course, but eventually the two wives are on their way. Well, after sufficient fussing over the twins of course. Merrill gives Hawke a worried, thoughtful look at the murmured explanation of a Rosemary flashback but mercifully doesn't press. Arriving home, they reach the house to hear worried shouting...


	12. Processing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke searches for answers.

Isabela hangs on Zevran's shoulder, laughing at Andy's obvious distress -- and Zevran's. "You lads," she slurs, "need to drink more often. I was only gone, what, eight months? You gotta stay in shape without me around," she laughs, as they approach Hawke's.

"I would-" Zevran pauses to locate where his stomach had just slid to. "I wwooould be remiss if I did not piss! I mean... if I did not point out that... that we two fine fellows had a... a... Andy what's before four?"

Andy ponders a moment, then says very solemnly, "before."

"Yes, before four."

"Before."

"No, before _four_!"

"Before!!"

"Three?" asks Isabela.

"Three what?" Zevran asks, distractedly. "Oh! Us! There are three of us!" He pauses then, staring. "The door to this one's dormicle is unlocked and slightly a jar."

"I hate that joke," Andy mumbles. "Does that mean Hawke is home? I like her, even if she's my boss and.. and doesn't really like me. She has pretty eyes too, did you know that?"

Isabela frowns, holding up a hand. "No..." she says, slowly, trying to make sense of this. _Alright, Isabela. Your instincts are going mad, and there's gotta be a reason for it. No matter how naked you want to get right now--_ "The front door's open." she states, baldly. _That's what's wrong with this picture!_

Zevran blinks a few times. "It is!"

"You didn't know about Hawke's eyes?" Andy frowns at Isabela.

"The door is open," Zevran insists. "Which is good because I forgot-"

"No, three," Andy corrects him.

"Threegot my keys?" Zevran tests, then wrinkles his noise. "We should find my loves!" He gooses Isabela. "One down!" And now he's stumbling inside.

Isabela holds out her arm, catching Zevran in the stomach as she stops him. "No, the door's _open_. Not unlocked. It's _open_. That means... something. Danger. That means danger."

Zevran retches at the blow to his poor belly, though thankfully he keeps from causing a mess. He misses most of what Isabela says, but one word does make it's way into his head. _Danger. Isabela... is saying there's danger. In my home. Where I keep my flowers and hawks. **Danger.**_ He hand fumbles at his belt- it takes two tries, but he finally comes up with a small vial of carefully brewed... something. He can't recall the name, but Varric made it. It cures- well delays- drunkenness and hangovers for an hour. Very handy for an adventurer to have on hand when going on a night about town.

Swallowing the bitter yellow fluid- _lovely, thank you Varric, there's no chance you didn't mean for this to be reminiscent of piss-_ Zevran shudders as his head suddenly, viciously, clears. Now sober, he rushes past Isabela without a word, the vial spinning in his fingers.

Andy sways at the sudden absence of part of his support. "What?" he blurts out, peering about blearily.

"Wait here," Isabela instructs. "he says there's trouble, you take yer tonic." She grins at him, then belches.

Inside, there's first and foremost no sign of Merrill or Silence -- not a good sign. Secondly, Aveline's shield is resting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Finally, there's a knife stuck in the wall in the kitchen, as if thrown across the room. There's vegetables half-chopped on the cutting board, turning brown, and eggs sitting out on the counter. No sign of struggle other than the knife, but nobody's _home_.

Zevran stills a moment, ears straining, trying to feel if that shivering sense across his neck is warning him of unseen, unheard foes. Nothing. Empty. Striding over to the knife, he yanks it from the wall. No blood. A scan of the kitchen. _No blood anywhere. I can't imagine either of the ladies falling without some kind of a fight so... an intruder, chased off? But this looks... old. Not old, old, but hours at least. Alright. Okay. Think. No, wait, wait. Andy's a guard. He'll know how to-_ "ANDY!"

Andy starts at the shout, having become lost in his thoughts as they waited. "That's sound trouble," he hazzards, fumbling for his own vial of guard-issue sober-potion. He makes a face at the taste- apple cider vinegar and salt- and then winces as it kicks in.

Isabela follows suit, one hand popping the cork on her vial even as the other taps each of her knives in turn. It takes a while to get dressed while drunk when she has to strap each one in place, but she'd never even consider going without. A good knife can save a life.

When the other two join Zevran, the merikos drow quickly catches them up. "Place is empty, left in a rush- and _that_ ," he snaps, jabbing a hand at the knife that he'd put back in the wall. "No blood," he adds.

Andy's eyes widen and he quickly begins to look around the kitchen. Isabela follows suit, spies the shield, and frowns. "This is big," she says. "They got Aveline away from her shield. We need to get Varric involved, he'll know where they were taken."

"Right," Zevran agrees rapidly. "Andy, any thoughts on.."

"Looks like whoever was cooking stepped away, then- Hawke. Hawke was cooking, the onions were partially frozen, then thawed," Andy says rapidly. "Someone was at the table, but the knife was thrown a different direction."

Zevran's eyes dart around the room. "Nothing else has water damage so it wasn't a casting. Emotion? Andy, grab Hawke's old staff, bedroom near the door," he snaps out. "Isabela, check the basement, just in case. I'll check the backyard."

Isabela moved, a knife in each hand; it doesn't take long for her to clear the basement and return, shaking her head. "No sign. Anything?"

"Bed's untouched!" Andy shouts from the bedroom as he grabs the staff.

"Gate is open!" Zevran calls back as he returns from the bedroom. "There's no-one here, we should get to Varric's," he adds, nodding at Isabela.

She nods, turning toward the door -- and freezes, knives at the ready, as she comes face-to-face with Silence. She relaxes a moment later, recognizing the mabari with only minor difficulty. "Where's your mistress?" she asks, her tone casual but her eyes tight. _She's a Mabari. There's no way she's here if Hawke's in trouble, she wouldn't abandon her..._

"Isabela!" Merrill excited shout fills the house.

"Llumière dans mon coeur," Zevran whispers, sagging against the counter, the words a prayer.

Silence gives Isabela a sniff to confirm she belongs, then gives the undine a welcoming grunt.

A moment later, Hawke's in the doorway, her eyes sliding past Zevran to the knife in the wall first and foremost -- then doubling back to him, a smile on her face in an instant. "I didn't know you were back in town, Bela? It seems like my place is where the party's at today. I should have stayed put," she jokes. "Zevran, Andy, have a good night out?" She doesn't seem surprised by the knife, but her eyes keep flicking back to it, even as she tries to bury her worry. _I meant to take that down before Merrill could see, but it looks like I'll need a cover after all..._

Merrill, a half step behind Hawke, spots the knife as well. Without hesitation, she slips past Hawke to pluck the knife from the wall. "That's not where that goes," she says reprovingly. "Oh, and it's chipped. Oh well, we'll just have to get a new set."

Zevran stares in stupefaction. He's straightened, started to speak, to go to them but then Merrill had... well, Merrilled. "...what?" he finally manages.

"Oh, Hawke had a bit of flashback. Seli helped her even back out, but we're just going to have a bit of a cuddle in," the elf says airly.

Isabela arches an eyebrow. _A flashback? It seems like I missed something while I was away. I'll have to ask Zevvy about it later, in private._ "Sounds lovely."

In the doorway, Andy coughs a little. "I'll... just put this back, then head home," he says a little awkwardly. _Cuddle probably means orgy and there'll be far too many women in that cluster for my tastes. Besides, if I move fast, my potion will be in effect long enough to get past the twin's welcome home._

"It was a marvelous night," Zevran says almost instinctively. _Flashback? Of what? If Aveline was here, why go to Seli? Unless... unless Aveline was part of what triggered her. Hmmm._

Having put the knife away, Merrill goes back to Hawke and slips an arm around her slowly.

"You can stay, if you want." Andy's never heard this tone from her: her voice is... not gentle, not just soft, but smaller, less imposing. "I'm not up for sex today."

_What?!_

She leans back against Merrill, closing her eyes as she cuddles up to her. Isabela instinctively takes a step toward her before biting her lip, pulling back. _What are you doing, Isabela? You're no good at this._

Zevran comes up behind Isabela, slinging an arm around her waist to pull her along with him as he goes to his other wi- to the wives. _What was that thought?_ Their approach is met with a bright smile from Merrill but no comment for now.

"Thank you but I want to see the twins before I pass out," Andy says after a few seconds of thought. With that, he slips out of the kitchen to put the spare staff back and head out the back. _Double check to make sure the gate is closed, in case Zevran just looked and didn't fix._

Hawke tugs them toward the back bedroom, sighing softly. "I really need to go see Morrigan tonight," she warns.

"Morrigan... have I met her?" Zervan asks thoughtfully, trying to place the name, then gives Merrill a hard kiss hello. Merrill happily kisses back- and is pleased he doesn't try to deepen it. _Hawke shouldn't have sex right now and I have trouble resisting either of my loves if they offer... well, to be honest, if they offer anything really._

Hawke sighs. "I didn't get a chance to pay her and work out another meeting before we were interrupted. I don't want her worried about getting her coin, she earned it."

Zevran flips through his mental files again, then shrugs. "I'll take that as a no then," he says dryly. "Anything special? Should I be getting out a recruiting pitch?" As the conversation continues, the quartet make their way to the bedroom.

Merrill wiggles free to start stripping, then pauses. "Hmmm. I wonder if Papa would help me come up with a special teleport spell for clothing..."

"No, just didn't want to sleep alone. Sorry, Morrigan Black is her, uh, probably professional name."

Merrill jerks a little, looking up at Hawke with wide eyes. "Morrigan of the Korcari Wilds? Of the Semita Tenebris Academy?" Summoning sceleratii isn't illegal in Nyra, but it is required that the summoner be registered and use registered summoner chambers. The large majority of those that do so are part of the Semita Tenebris Academy for the simple reason that said academy has a very extensive contract with the Junon church to run security. Both to prevent any summoned sceleratti from going feral and to prevent zealots from attacking the summoners. "Did- did you know what she- Hawke, did she tell you?" the elf demands, eyes turning hard and protective, rather at odds with her half-dressed appearance.

Hawke winces. "Yes, Merrill. I know her specialty."

"Oh, okay then," Merrill says, going back to her work of stripping down. _As long as Hawke is aware and isn't being made- or tricked- to do anything she doesn't want to again, then I'm sure she knows what she's doing._ Humming softly, shaman tosses her dress into the hamper, revealing that once again, she's gone with small clothes. Lucky elves- no need for bras or knickers for the most part, between modest bosoms at most and their cycle coming about roughly thrice a year...

Zevran leans in towards Isabela. "Are you also getting that 'I'm missing something' vibe?" he asks voce sotto.

"it's Hawke. I'm always missing something," Isabela jokes.

Zevran gives Hawke an expectant look, clearly requesting more information on what's going on. Hawke is already tugging Merrill toward the bed; when she catches the look, she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't really want to get into it, but, I wanted Morrigan for a specific talent of hers. Nothing illegal, but not the most palatable kink in Nyra."

Zevran's brow furrows a moment, then his eyes widen. "Hawke... you shouldn't... push yourself to..." he says fumblingly. "I- we can talk later, I'm sorry, but please, before your next... session?"

She sighs. "This is why I didn't-- it's fine. She knows what she's doing."

"I'm less worried about her skills and more about your... very understandable trauma," Zevran says bluntly. "But we can talk about this later," he adds in a firm tone. "If for no other reason than I have an elf taking off my trousers."

Merrill giggles a little as she continues to help people undress. _Cuddling is best when it's skin to skin. It's a fact. Proven and tested and confirmed with science and stuff._

Hawke keeps her pants on; she has to go out later, she explains, but she'll cuddle for now. She tugs Merrill into bed and Zevran after, warning Bela off sex before filling her in on the latest doings. That evening, as they finish dinner, Hawke plants a kiss on Merrill's cheek. "If you have the dishes, love, I am heading out."

Zevran dithers a second, then just asks, "would you mind some company?"

_Depends. Are you trying to save me?_ She puts on a thin smile. "Sure."

"Brilliant," Zevran says with a much more natural looking smile. He's a better liar after all. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." She rakes a hand through her hair. "I will apologize to Aveline later, I frightened her some."

"Better is good," Zevran says with a smile. "Are you up for talking about it?" he continues in a softer tone.

"About this morning?" She sighs, chewing her lip for a bit, then nods a single, jerky nod. "I will say this once, get it over with now: Aveline offered to try to force herself to... Meet my activity level."

"Met- oh for the love of Ciren's throbbing cock," Zevran groans. "How could she not realize how you would-" He takes a deep breath. "I understand. Do you want me to... explain it to her?"

"I think I made my feelings plain," she says dryly.

"Feelings yes, but it might not hurt to be sure she understands the why of it," Zevran says wryly. "Though points for making the knife stick in the wall, that's harder than most realize with a tool knife."

Hawke sighs. "Maybe, but you can't be the one to explain to her." She pinches the bridge of her nose -- an act, feigned annoyance to disguise real heartache.

"Well, I could..." He says, but nods. "I could be there with you at least, if you like."

"Best not. It'd complicated things."

"As you wish, mon bon faucon," Zevran says lightly. "May I ask how this... what started the argument?"

"Oh, she was being particularly cranky is all." She shrugs and shoulder. "You know how insecure she can get."

Zevran sighs a little. "She struggles a great deal with her sexuality," Zevran observes. "She has made great progress over the years but something in her past, I suspect, engrained in her a great deal of... rigid ideas in regards to propriety and acceptability."

Hawke nods, taking a moment to bury her pain and doubt. Oh, she's sure she'll pay for it later; Lelldorin had mentioned that might be what's keeping her awake at night. But she can't quite bring herself to hurt Zevran by repeating what Aveline had said, or to let him see her pain and fear. "She'll be fine."

_I wish she wouldn't hurt herself to spare us every flicker of pain_ , Zevran thinks sourly. "You shouldn't... did you talk it over with Seli already?" he asks instead.

She nods again. "She's great for that."

"I'm glad," Zevran says with deep earnesty. "On another topic, might I ask what prompted you to seek out Morrigan?" _Alone?_

Hawke frowns. "I can seek out who I like, I am being safe about all this."

"Perhaps you could answer _me_ and not whatever accusation or insult you're imagining I said," Zevran says pleasantly. "If you don't wish to answer, you have that right of course, but it would be nice if you'd not take out your aggravation with Aveline on me." _That was... damn, I am more unsettled from this afternoon than I realized. That was clumsily done of me._

Her shoulders slump as the rebuke hits home. She pinches the bridge of her nose again, hiding her eyes behind her hand as she does. "You're right. I'm sorry. Aveline had similar concerns, and I'm still... anyway. I wanted to.. learn, I suppose. It's really just an extension of what you started when you introduced me to Lux."

"Learning is good," Zevran agrees with a nod. "I am curious as to... how far you plan on going. It's a good idea to... help reduce the degree of trauma exposure to sceleratii but... well, they are literal incarnations of evil so there's no need to be able to be friends, no?"

Hawke flushes, caught off guard by the sudden rush of memory from the night before. "I.. am not sure."

Zevran's eyes widen a hair and he smoothly shifts it into an exaggerated 'aha' expression. "Well now... that was a rather familiar flush," he draws. "Share with Madame Zevvy."

She laughs, shaking her head. "It was.. I'm still... processing last night, I suppose."

Zevran slips an arm around hers and winks at her. "Perhaps this one can be of assistance? I do not claim to know every mystery of the heart or bedroom- or kitchen, alleyway, park bench, church pew and living room rug- but I do fancy that I know a far bit more than most."

She plants a kiss on his cheek. "As we walk?" _So that Merrill doesn't overhear?_

"Of course," he says easily, slipping into dwarven as he starts for the door. "Where to, exactly?"

"The Pony. We had booked the room for the night, I suspect she's still there. If not, I can find her." Hawke grabs her staff and they head out the door, though it's a few minutes before she begins talking. "I am... I found myself having some odd thoughts during this latest bout. Not the kind I'd expected."

"What were the... what new factors were in play that sparked these thoughts?" he asks curiously. _From her tone, she is... uncertain about how acceptable these 'odd thoughts' might be. Or perhaps how... they will impact the Clan? Hmmm._

"I'm not sure. It's nothing I hadn't done before, mechanically, but I found myself thinking..." She hesitates, looking away as she blushes again, twisting her hand on her staff nervously. "They were thoughts that had you spoken them aloud, I would have gone cold with anger. But I found them arousing instead."

_If I had spoken them... ah._ "Degradation play?" he guesses.

"Is that a thing?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I guess it is, since I found it-- yeah."

" _Everything_ is a thing for someone," Zevran says dryly. "Tammy had a client earlier this week that hired her- for two gold- to make an entire meal- roast chicken and vegetables, fresh bread and a green salad. Then he wanted to watch her eat it while he watched, naked. Not her, him. And... that was it. Just... watching her make and eat a meal while naked." He shrugs. "As for debasement play... that is one of the more... tricky kinks. It can go badly very easily."

Hawke blinks at him as he tells his story, as though waiting for a punchline. _That's... that's weird. Don't judge, sorry, but that's some weird stuff._ She frowns at his later proclamation. "How so? I mean, it's just play, right?"

"It is meant to be just play, yes," Zevran agrees soberly. "But sex is... it lowers one's defenses. Exposes them. If you are already worried about yourself, about your worth or value. If your partner does not take care to not cross lines, or does not make sure to rebuild you afterwards." He shrugs again. "Like dominance plays, it can easily cross the line into true harm. Not something to experiment with someone you do not trust very, very well." _Kind of like how you jumped right into dom play with a stranger with extreme tastes..._

"Oh, right," Marian says, her voice small. "I knew I was forgetting something."

"I'm guessing there was no aftercare," Zevran says, not able to keep the disapproval out of his voice. "Poorly done of this Morrigan."

"She didn't know," Hawke confesses. "And I know that's no excuse -- she's talented, she should be looking for the signs -- but we were interrupted by the slagging Guard pounding on the rust-taken door."

Zevran blinks a few times. "Admittedly, that's... a fair reason for not providing proper aftercare," Zevran allows. "And it is a decent excuse. It's true that someone that engages in kink play should know what they're doing, but that doesn't mean they need to be mind readers. If you find yourself slipping into sub-thought, then it's on you to either pull back or alert your partner. Unless they are mind readers or the like, in which case, presuming they have your permission to be doing such, then yes, they should have noticed. That... digressed a bit. Or went further than... you said something about the guard?"

"Some stupid-- that's why I haven't had a chance to pay her yet, because there was some guard investigation. We had nothing to do with it, of course, but they split us up for questioning."

"Standard procedure," Zevran comments. _That's probably how Aveline stumbled into all this._ "Annoying, but standard procedure. Would... would you like to explore more of this new kink?" he asks gently. "With me?"

Hawke hesitates, frowning slightly. "I... don't know yet. I think... I may need to speak to Morrigan about it first."

"About..?"

"Maybe this is related to something we did. I should, I don't know. My head's all a muddle."

"Perhaps we should find a quiet nook or the like to discuss this more in depth," Zevran suggests gently. "Start from the beginning and slowly work our way through everything until you feel more confident about how you feel. And what happened to cause those feelings."

Still, Hawke hesitates. "Maybe, but.."

Zevran speeds up so he can pull around to stand in front of her, facing her. "But what, my love?" he murmurs. "There is no shame in... well, shame play. Not to me. Never to me. The only shame that can be found in sex is in forcing another."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. _The only shame, huh?_ "I think it may have been because... it was not a real devil, not really, but her eidolon had many of the characteristics of one, and..."

Zevran nods, the love and support in his expression never wavering an inch.. "Have I ever spoken about 'non-con' play?"

She shakes her head. "What's that?"

"It's short for non-consent," he says carefully. "There are those- it's similar to how submission play is not slavery but merely a pretense. Hawke," he says, trying to get her attention once it's clear she's not just turning away but tuning him out.

Her face shuts down before he's finished the first sentence. "No," she says, her tone dark. She turns away from him, no longer listening, her knuckles turning white as she grips her staff harder. As soon as he seems to be done, she walks around him, staring straight ahead as if she doesn't see him, continuing on her way.

"Hawke," he repeats, moving after her. "Please don't shut me out."

"I'm not," she says, unable to meet his eyes. "Not you. Never you. But I have no interest in this topic."

"Alright. We can... shift back. I was merely... it's about the pretense. Just as I would never, in a ten thousand years, be okay with being chained in truth but I do enjoy have you or Isabela tie me in bed. It's a game, pretend, and a show of trust."

"There's nothing--" _There's nothing of trust in what I did. There's nothing of the game in the things going through my mind. There was nothing pure about that, nothing fun, just..._ Disgust stills her tongue. "I bet Bela enjoyed topping you last night. Last time we played she had to sub."

_That... was awkwardly placed. And insulting from the context, though I doubt she meant it that way at all._ "Do you think less of me, that I enjoyed much of what I did as slave? That I liked being raped?" he says in a low, hard voice. "That I still do many of the things I was taught then? Enjoy them?"

She flinches, actually recoiling slightly. "No. Of course not. You had to survive somehow."

"Hawke, that's not- listen to _me_ ," he insists. "Slavery is vile and evil. But just because something looks a bit like slavery, doesn't mean that it is also evil. No more than Andy is evil because he looks a bit like his mother. Sub play, shibari... non-con. None of them are evil. None of them are what they pretend to be."

"Why would you _want_ that?" she whispers, passionate horror flooding her tone. "That sick feeling of shame and guilt, that feeling like someone's kicked a trapdoor out from under you, that betrayal, that feeling of being helpless, desperate, bound and used and defiled like, like the stain can reach your very soul, knowing there's nothing that can be done to make it stop..."

"Because... because if there's nothing you can do to stop it, then it's not your fault. Because it's just like subbing in a way. Giving up control, not having to many any choices, any decisions, being able to just... let what happens, happens. Because... shame and guilt can feel good," Zevran whispers back. "They can be... intoxicating. Addictive. Destructive and ruinous, if mishandled. Oh so ruinous. I suppose it's like strong spirits that way. Moderation and self-discipline, not using it as an escape, being safe with when you indulge..."

But her face is closing over again as she pulls back from the emotion he'd engendered in her. "I can't afford to give up control. To give in to guilt, to let myself be-- There's a reason I never wanted to sub before I met Estelle."

"Because you're better than that?" Zevran asks in an even tone.

She takes a half step back, blinking. "What? No. Because I can't afford to give up control. I can't be sure I can trust anyone but you like that, and you wouldn't want..."

"I have," Zevran says simply. "Done and enjoyed both."

"You're not a _mage_." She can't stop herself; the words are loose in the air, dripping with scorn and condescension, before she realizes what she's about to say. She turns ashen, then, turning her face away. "I'm sorry, I didn't -- I don't mean that."

"Control," Zevran murmurs, nodding slowly. "You fear that if you relax, if you let down your guard, that... your magic will lash out and hurt people?"

"I know better, but..." She hides her face in one palm. "I almost hurt Aveline again this morning."

"Isn't she basically immune to your frost? Anything less than your top tier stuff?" Zevran points out, then shakes his head. "Not the point I suppose. But I would point out in turn that you have never hurt Merrill, myself, Andy or Estelle during games. When triggered, you've iced up a bit, yes, but you've never done more than chill us a smidge. I have hurt you more than you have us, when... spooked by something." _I might not have magic, but when one can break bone and tear flesh with naught but one's hands..._ "I know full what it is to fear hurting loved ones while fighting a ghost."

"And yet you still-- you're stronger than I," she says, trying to play off her self-loathing as a lighter, more playful jape.

Zevran stares at her, eyes on hers. "Hawke," he chides her gently. "Please don't do that, not with me."

"Do what?" she asks, softly, glancing up at him.

"Make light of your woes and pain out of some misguided and frankly insulting delusion you need to protect me," is the blunt reply.

She turns her glance aside once more. "It's not-- I meant it. You are stronger than me. I'm not trying to protect you, only... only this is.." She gestures helplessly. _This isn't something you need to deal with. This is my own stupidity, not something you can't handle._

"You're being a dummy again," Zeran informs her. "I understand that I do not have to help, do not have to get involved... but you are not really the one to be using that as an argument for standing aside and making someone deal with their troubles on their own, Mi'lady Hero. I want to help you. I... debts may not be owed, but that does not mean I do not wish to help you as you have helped me time and time again."

She sighs. "You are comfortable reclaiming some of what was done to you. I am... I am not. I am..." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I am afraid. What happens if I cause a hailstorm inside Voice? What happens if I throw a knife and it lodges in Aveline's eye the way it lodged in the wall? What happens if I lose myself and the person I trusted is... is a succubus?" Her gaze fixes on the ground.

"In reverse... don't play these sort of games, don't indulge these kinks with anyone but your most trusted. Me. Merrill, Aveline, Isabela... Estelle, perhaps Nox and Lux. Trying out new kinds, of this sort, that depend on trust, is something that should never been done with a stranger." He pauses. replaying her words. "For the knife... I was not there, but from what I could tell, you threw the blade away from both of you."

"I threw it. I didn't aim. I didn't even look." She stares at her boots, waiting for judgement.

"And yet it went in a direction where not only was no-one standing, but also away from both doors," Zevran notes. "Perhaps luck, but just as likely it was your subconscious intent. _Why_ did you throw the knife?"

Hawke closes her eyes--

_I was standing at the counter, chopping an onion, and I heard her say-- and everything went cold inside me. I couldn't breathe; my lungs seized up, my throat closed, I couldn't move. I couldn't think. The feelings were so strong, like my insides turned to solid ice. The world around me stopped turning, and there was clarity: everything hurt, and there was a knife in my hand. I needed to not have a knife. I needed to hurt something and if I had a knife I might actually do it. So I threw the knife as hard as I could, letting it take my anger and fear away with it._

\-- and takes a slow breath. "I wanted to hurt something."

"And you chose the wall," Zevran points out. "Good pick. And, if I may be blunt, I'm fairly certain if you stabbed Aveline in the eye with a chef knife, she'd pull it out, heal it, then start to berate you for your aim, weapon choice and- and probably hug the stuffing out of you because clearly you're in a bad place." Or pin you to the ground and smite you, to see if you're actually you.

"I wasn't in a hugging mood." Her tone is dark; she opens her eyes again, taking another slow breath.

"Grapple then," Zevran replies without missing a beat. "My point stands. Yes, you could have hurt someone. So could I. Right now, there are more than three dozen deadly weapons within a quick shuffle of where I'm standing that I could use to kill just about anyone but you within eyesight in less than a dozen heartbeats. But I'm not. 'Could' is of little value. 'Did' matters much more. Or their negative variants, in this case."

"Because despite going through more, living through more, _surviving_ more, you're able to hold yourself together and not throw knives at me every time I so much as mention slavery." There's no mistaking the contempt in her voice -- and judging by the words she chooses, it's self-directed.

"No, I just end up sobbing on Merrill's shoulder once or twice a mo-" He cuts off, taking a deep breath. Then other.

Hawke is quiet for a long moment before she looks up at him. Despite her best efforts, there's still a shadow in her eyes when she meets his gaze. "Still?" she asks quietly.

Zevran nods curtly. "I... we don't... talk about... why. I just... she holds me and I... let go. It's... It helps to let go for a little while. To grieve for that betrayed little boy, for just a little while." He lets out a shaky breath. Inhales. "And I... comparing pain is pointless- years of slavery to watching your sister killed in front of you? Your mother? Watching your brother walk away from you not in one single act but over and over again, drop by drop? Shall you be stabbed in the right lung or left?" He flutters a hand away from himself as if to say 'what difference is there really?'

" _Years_ of _slavery_ ," she counters. "Year upon year of having your most intimate self honed into a weapon, year upon year of--" _I am nothing, I am hollow._ "You know," she says, glancing away. "Losing family is bad, but it's nothing compared to what you went through."

"I would do it all again, live each day once more even knowing what it's like to have an equal time with my father," Zevran says thickly. "And he died in bed, peacefully in his sleep, after a long, rich life." _I would do it twice over to bring your sister back, to remove that guilt and pain from your soul._

Hawke frowns, mulling it over. "I'd do it, to bring Bethany back. But... I make no illusions about being able to be with her after. About being a good person after. You... you've somehow learned how to hold yourself together in ways I don't think I can."

Zevran's eyes go soft, unfocused. "You... you learn to... let yesterday not stay in your head. Today matters, unless today is a bad day. Then it's tomorrow that matters, because it'll be better. Eventually. And I was lucky, in many ways. My... innate talents were valuable. And once my tattoos were given to me, I was more valuable yet. A broken tool is useless, so there was more care given to my... condition than many slaves receive."

_Let yesterday not stay in my head. That's a pretty good explanation of how I get through most days -- it's the **nights** I can't deal with, most of the time. The time when everything's quiet and empty. The times when I'm alone, and there's no busywork to keep my mind occupied. Then old ghosts come calling and I can't figure out how to make them stop. There's only emptiness in the present, and who knows what the future will bring? _ "I'm glad," she says quietly, reaching up slowly to cup his cheek gently with one hand. "I love you. You bring so much good into my life."

He leans into her touch, eyes closing slightly. Zevran's body is taunt, tense, at first but she can much of it leave him at her touch. "And I you," he murmurs. "We... we seem to have covered a lot of ground in our talk, haven't we?"

"I'm not sure it was for the best," she agrees with a sigh. "Now I'm agitated again, and Morrigan can be... offputting. But, best we get this errand done quickly."

Zevran takes a half step closer and smiles faintly. "Perhaps a distraction?" he purrs softly, licking his lips to try and imply he's referring to a kiss, not actual sex.

_Yes, please!_ She closes the last distance between them rapidly, kissing him with the reckless abandon of one trying to exchange the present moment for a better one.

Zevran obliges. In spades, wagons and perhaps a cargo ship for good measure. After a few minutes- no more than five, at the most. Possibly five, but certainly not ten. Regardless, after ten minutes or so, give or take a minute, the pair finally part. "Well," Zevran says breathlessly, "that was truly a good now, was it not?"

Hawke nods. "Most of my moments with you are worth being in."

"I've apologized repeatedly for the, ah," he coughs lightly, "plucking incident. Your eyebrow evened out within the week and you got your sight back by morning," he protests. He puts on a good show, but the gleam in his eyes can be detected by one that knows him as well as Hawke does.

She laughs, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

\---

Ten minutes later and they've arrived at the Piebald Pony. For one awful moment, Hawke finds herself doubting Aveline: _Is she holding her just to spite me for this morning? To keep me away from her? Because she's a whore and whores can't be innocent?_ She pushes the thoughts away, thanking the innkeeper with a cold smile as she turns to head for the door. _We'll find out._

"So... what exactly were the guard asking about when they interrupted you both this morning?" Zevran asks carefully, eying the faint wisps of mist coming off Hawke's skin and fading rapidly in the warm, somewhat muggy air.

"Where I was last night -- with Morrigan -- and did we do anything arcane together -- we did not. Then _I_ was free to go." The implication is clear: if they were together, and neither of them did anything wrong, why was Morrigan held?

Zevran makes a thoughtful noise in his throat. "While you were chatting with the innkeeper, I overheard a few snatches of a conversation among the help," he shares in a low voice. "Not much to go on, given how fast we were in and out, but evidently there was a very nasty mess, one that required heavy cleaning magic, in the main room of the tavern in fact. And a large black box carried out the back by the guard, one with Mileen's symbol on it." Which is what the guard- and most groups with more sense than thrift- use to transport bodies that were killed in ways that might lead to undead type results- messy murders, torture, anything magical, death via undead or aberration and so forth.

Hawke shudders. "Still, we were together the whole night. I freely said as much. So if they're holding her, at best they think I'm a liar, at worst a suspect."

"Or that she summoned something prior or tricked you somehow," Zevran theorizes. "Or perhaps- and this is admittedly a stretch- but perhaps she is being... utilized as an expert?"

"Let's hope," sighs Hawke.

The guard station is as busy as always at this time of night. Shift change was just a bit ago, so there's plenty of guards doing some last minute paperwork before they can leave while the new shift circulates and gets organized for the night's tasks. Still, Hawke is well known enough that it's not long before one of the Sargents hails her.

"This a quiet visit or should I kiss our overtime budget to the hells?" Sgt. Prethin says, mostly joking but at least a little worriedly. He's a fair sort, one of the few old-timers that deserves to wear the uniform. A bit stiff, a bit bland, but a practical, reasonable and gruffly kind sort.

"Nothing you lot don't know about," she jokes. "Is Aveline in yet?"

"Captain Vallen? Nah, she called out- personal day," he replies, frowning slightly at the reminder. "You here to see her or follow up on a case, Lady zi'hawke?"

Zevran purses his lips, giving Hawke a significant look. _Aveline taking a personal day? That is **highly** out of character... it seems that Hawke was not the only one hurt by what occurred this morning. And... who did she go to? Actually... aside from Hawke- and perhaps Merrill- who does Aveline have? At all? Vangal and Coalside, but gods and duty are cold comfort when you need someone to hold you close._

"Not so much a case -- I have no idea what's going on and I'm not sure I need to -- but a person, actually. I was out with a friend last night, and we were questioned as witnesses. Today I find out, my friend never made it home. I wanted to be sure nothing had happened to her? For all I know, she's hurt herself and is resting at a healer." She shrugs. "Any chance you can fill me in? I don't want to interfere with whatever investigation is going on, you see..."

Sgt. Prethin shrugs. _Simple enough request._ "Right, just take a few minutes to look up an case from last night. Coalside, yeah? Right. Name?" At Hawke's reply, he frowns a little. "You said a friend, right?" he asks slowly, a bit of concern in his face.

"That might be putting it a little strong, as we only met recently," she hedges. "But I was with her all night before we got separated for questioning. I don't know what's happened, so I can't speak much to the crime itself, but it seems strange to me that I was let go free and she wasn't."

"I recognize the name from the holding pen roster," Sgt. Prethin explains. "With a notation for heavy watch as a high combat/flight risk. Nothing invasive or anything, just a health dollop of extra caution."

Zevran hums softly. _Well, we found her_ , he thinks wryly. "Would it be possible for us to speak with her?"

The guard hesitates, glancing at Hawke. "Well... should have you talk to the lead on the case first," he hedges.

"That's fine," she says placidly. "And if there's anything I can do to help, I'm willing. Maybe I can advise on how best to hold someone of her talents safely." _Come on, do it. Tell me her skills are why she's being held. Tell me it's her **magic** that's the problem._ Hawke knows she's being petty here. She's done and said similar things about demon summoners in the past, hasn't she? _But I know it's disgusting, I'm working on it. I know I should treat everyone with love, give everyone a chance, not try to judge._

"I'll be sure to pass that on to the lead. Be back in a moment," he says, heading off to check the files and see who's in charge. Returning, he says, "looks like Lt. Rawlins is the lead for the case. Captain Vallen has recused herself for personal reasons," he adds, gesturing at Hawke. That's actually common- Aveline has made a habit of taking herself of any cases involving Hawke, as witness, hero or anything, in order to maintain some professionalism. Which isn't to say she doesn't follow such cases with a heavy gaze. "Follow me, ma'am." With that, Sgt. Prethin heads off towards the officer hall.

Hawke follows, throwing a brief glance to Zevran. _This could get messy, but... Gods, I almost hope she did it._

Zevran gives her arm a nearly invisibly causally stroke in support at they walk.

A quick knock and acknowledgement has the sergeant showing him inside Lt. Rawlins's office. "Lady Sage. What brings you to Wathlane Station so late?" he says, his tone blunt and brisk but in a 'I have a lot of work' rather than a 'fuck off' tone. Something that is backed up by a great deal of paper and parchment on his desk. The section of his desk in front of him is covered by a map of the countryside- upside down, so it's probably there to cover what he was working on when they knocked.

She glances over the papers, but makes no sign of recognition of any of what she sees, instead smiling at him warmly, as if she was just sizing up the room -- a common trait among adventurers used to ambush. "Lt. Rawlins, good to see you again. I'm just following up on the incident from the other day. It's my understanding my friend didn't make it home? Is there anything you can tell me about her status at this time?"

Rawlins frowns a moment, leaning back to regard Hawke. "Well... it's an ongoing case so I can't really say much unless you're putting your oar in officially as a Light," he replies after a moment. "Morrigan is currently being held for questioning in regards to a murder. No charges have been made," he adds.

"Murder's a serious charge," Hawke says, her tone too casual. "And a surprising one -- she was only at the Pony because I purchased her services and a room."

Rawlins shrugs. "Again, I can't give any details on the case itself," he says more firmly.

"Well," she says simply. "You've had her all day -- I'm sure you must be nearly done by now. With no charges, you're bound to let her go soon, yes? I'll wait here until you're finished." She leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms casually.

"We're still following up on a few things. We can hold her for another..." he glances at a clock on the wall. "Fifty-two hours or so before charging her. If that's all, I have a lot of work to get done, Lady Sage."

"I don't," she chirps happily.

"You know where the waiting room is," Rawlins says, eyes narrowing a bit. "Light or not, you can't stay in my office while I work."

"Fair enough," she allows with a nod. "I look forward to seeing the results of your investigation, Guardsman. I value the work you boys do here, and I have been a major supporter of Captain Vallen's reformation efforts from the beginning. Coalside is truly a better place with her in charge." She gives a warm smile as she turns to leave.

Rawlins snorts soundlessly as she turns. "Have a good evening," he calls after her. As she leaves, she glances back as she shuts the door, allowing her to get a split second glimpse of his desk as he lifts the map up. Figured prominently is a magically created sketch that the guard uses to capture visuals. A body, race and gender impossible to tell as the skin is completely gone, the guts pulled out to wrap around the face while still connected. The rib cage has been wrenched open and the heart half eaten. It's been pinned to the... wall, or possibly floor, the image is close up, which makes it hard to tell, by bone spikes. And to top it off, the bone spikes have infernal runes engraved on them, though she can't see enough of them to make out what they say.

She can't help it; she blanches, pivoting to slip into the restroom on her way to the waiting room, doubling over the sink as she tries to hold herself together. _Don't cry, your eyes will go puffy. Vomit if you have to, it's easier to wash your mouth out._

Zevran slips in behind her, hand slowly rubbing her back. "Deep breathes. Focus... focus on Andraste. Try and remember her smile or... the feel of her lips," he whispers. _What better to drive out mental demons (sceleratis, sorry Varric) than memories of the Herald of Adoration?_

She can't help it -- for one brief moment, she pictures Andraste ripped apart, violated, in that manner. In that moment she does throw up, the violent physicality of it helping to quell her errant mind, forcing her to live in the moment. She runs the tap, washing out her mouth mechanically.

_Or not,_ Zevran thinks with a wince. "Shhh.... get it out," he murmurs as she purges her stomach. As she cleans her mouth, he begins to mutter under his breath in terrible draconic. Once she finishes rinsing, he runs a finger over her lips, causing her mouth to be abruptly clean. He hadn't a lick of magical talent, but there are some rituals every whore in Nyra finds the time to learn. "What... what caused all of that?"

"Sketch," she mutters shuddering. "Murder scene."

_Hawke's an adventurer, has been for some time; she's seen grisly deaths before, and taken them in stride._ Zevran isn't nearly as smart as Hawke, but he's not a fool. "Sceleratis killer?" he asks gently, still rubbing her back. _That would explain the guard's interest in Morrigan... finding a well known devil summoner at the scene of that sort of death... not a conviction, true, but worth looking into._

"Yes," she croaks. She takes a deep breath, trying to push aside her heart, focus on her mind. "Conspicuously so. Someone wanted the guard to know this was a de-- sceleratis." _Did someone know what I was doing? Was this an attack on me, personally?_

"Just a murder or... more?" he asks carefully.

Her mind is already blurring the details- even with her memory, she'd had about two seconds to glance at the sketch, upside down and ten feet away. But... no, this was more than just killing someone. With the runes, the clear torture, the... very creative and deliberate injuries, it's very likely this was ritual. For what, she can't be sure without a better look and more details. "Dunno," she says, shaking her head. "Could be. Fits the scene. But this is Nyra. People can fake a ritual better here than most places."

"Very true. To be honest, simply by virtue of taking out a dozen or so cultists and ritualists over the years, I could probably stage such a scene," he admits, grimacing a bit at the idea. "Will you push to find out more?"

"Not-- not that scene," she mutters. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You could, technically speaking."

"I did mean in a... theoretical fashion," Zevran agrees. "So what's next? Push to be pulled in for the investigation? Investigate ourselves? Talk to Aveline?" A pause, then rather pointedly, "sleep?"

"Aveline's recused herself, she can't be involved. We can't be involved, either." She pauses, frowns, restates the issue: "I'm a Light, I can't be involved or condone anyone interfering," she says carefully. "I figured I'll have to come back tomorrow and be conspicuous, remind people there's a process to follow and I'm going to hold them to it."

_But I'm a brothel madame and thus held to much... less lofty standards. I wonder if dear ma'bela might be up for some questing?_ "Then let us return home to get some rest. Alas, I have plans tomorrow- and hopefully Bela will join me- so you'll have to hover by yourself," he says with a smirk, though it fades after a moment. "Don't... don't let this... argument with Aveline fester for too long," Zevran cautions her. "You do not do well when you give yourself a chance to stew."

She nods. "I want to stop by Papa's office while I'm in the area. It'll be a nice surprise for him."

"Hawke, it's well after eight, I doubt he's still there," Zevran points out. "But his place is on our way to home."

"What, really? When did it get so late?" she wonders aloud. "Yeah. I might spend the night over his place."

"We did nap for a bit more than three hours," Zevran points out, giving her a hug. "And your father sounds like just what you need to resettle yourself."

Hawke snakes her arm around Zevran's waist, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thanks for bearing with me," she says casually. "Let's get out of here before someone walks in on us."

\---

By the time she knocks on Varric's door, the signs of her distress have faded from her face. Between Zevran's company and the walk, in truth, she's recovered considerably; the rest of the unease in her heart is easily hidden in her face, giving her a casual, relaxed air as she greets her papa and says good evening to her lover.

Varric, having a proper grasp of pattern recognition, turns to get Hawke a mug of ale when she gets in so he doesn't have to watch Zevran kiss Hawke goodbye. _Hawke's a good daughter and makes a good effort (it's late, just a light apple ale) to not... put on any displays in front of me (ugh). On the other hand, it's a bit unfair to make Zevran (he looks troubled, need to follow up on that)- and her- deny themselves a big part of their relationship. Hence, compromise (should be long enough, right?)._ Coming out, he's pleased to see he timed it just about right as they're pulling apart at he enters. "Here you both go," he says gruffly. "What brings you both by?"

"It's been a while since I spent the night here, and I was in the area. Spent some time with Aveline last night, Seli today, Merrill and Zevran this afternoon, so, I figured you'd enjoy getting some Hawke time," she says, with a warm smile.

"I can always make time for you," Varric says agreeably, studying her for a moment. He flicks his gaze to Zevran. "What happened?" he asks curiously.

The merikos drow coughs a little, glancing away. "Ah..." he glances at Hawke. "Ah... little something I'd like to pick your brain about tomorrow," he says, eyes flicking up to the ceiling for some strange reason.

Hawke blushes, holding up her hand as if to ward off an accusation. "I _might_ be trying really hard to stay out of an investigation the guard are undergoing. Obviously as a Light I can't poke my nose in anymore, but a friend of mine's involved and I'm dying of curiosity."

"Sorry, what was that? I got distracted by the light fixture for some reason," Varric says blandly and no emphasis on any particular word in that sentence. "Alright, you heading out then, Shadow?"

"Indeed. Ma'bela is back, as I'm sure you already know," Varric smirks a little at Zevran's comment, "and I was planning on welcoming her back properly."

_Right... if Flirty (still think Saucey is a bitter nick but tastes vary) is back, then why isn't Hawke joining in on that? Could be just giving Zevran first crack but... hmmm. Add that to (Aveline last night, Seli today, Merrill and Zevran this afternoon) her day and..._ "Well, say hi for me," Varric says to Zevran, who nods. "You up for some paperwork or you ready to turn in already?" he asks Hawke.

She makes a face at the idea of paperwork, though it's perfunctory. "I'm not sleepy yet," she agrees. And so, ten minutes later, they settle into his office -- her refuge, the one place she speaks of certain topics she'd prefer to keep under wraps.

The pair settle in after Zevran heads out. Varric keeps it light for a while, giving her some time to sip at her gin and tonic, before he starts to work his way into things. "So the shipping guild is rising dues for the second time this fucking decade. Some bullshit about increased monster attacks- no real pattern in type- raising protection costs. Cost of doing business, sure, but still annoying."

"Twice in a decade, huh?" she asks, amused. "How horribly frequent. However will your businesses survive?"

Varric scowls at her. "It's only gone up three time in the last century, so twice in ten years is... weird." He mutters something under his breath, something... something about a syphilitic donkey with more luck than brains?

"What's that about my mother?" she asks with a smirk, raising one eyebrow.

"Close," Varric says with a laugh. "My brother. He left the shipping guild last year. And the labour guild seven months ago." He frowns, not his upset frown exactly either. More his frustrated in a 'I can't figure things out' way.

"Sounds like he's doing well for himself." She shrugs. "I haven't seen him in... what, four years? Five?"

"Something like that yeah. I run into him every couple of months but... that's the weird. He drops from the shipping guild- and yet none of his shipments have gotten so much as a wild dog attack. He drops from the labour guild and yet not a whiff of strikes or shortages." He scowls a little. "Starting to think he's..." The dwarf sighs. "I think Aveline might have been right about him all those years ago." Varric's sense of legality is... strange. Most laws are just percentages in his mind- the gain of breaking them versus the risk of being caught. Commercial law anyway. But people are worth more than gold, more then profit or bottom lines. That's the Tethras way. Businessmen, yes, but good businessmen. His brother however...

Hawke shrugs, playing off the shadow that crosses her face as though she were simply deep in thought. "Maybe. If so, she'll catch him at it sooner or later." She frowns, wanting to get back off the topic of her lover, reaching for the puzzle at hand instead. "I don't think I've spoken to him since that underdark trip. I hear his name come up from time to time at the Lantern, but... huh. I wasn't good at keeping in touch with people back then."

If this was Merrill or Seli, even Zevran or Aveline perhaps, that trick might have worked. Varric's eyes narrow for a second before he smooths it over. "Speaking of not seeing people for a bit, how is Aveline?"

"Great," she says with a smile, burying the bitterness so far down that even she can't find it in her tone. "Busy, as always. We spent a little time together this morning, by chance." No fidgeting, no lack of eye contact, a casual smile, she's not even planning her statements in advance like that time Anders came to visit -- but there was that shadow a moment ago he didn't imagine.

_So... not about Aveline? Maybe... maybe about a related topic?_ "About the...trouble?" he gestures vaguely, figuring he'd let her decide how much she can share about whatever business Zevran is looking into on her behalf.

"Trouble? What trouble?" She doesn't sound perplexed at all, just cheery, bright. "We just had a chat, that's all."

_Or... what the hell?_ "Hawke..." He takes a breath. "I'm just going to ask, because I'm hoping one or both of us is confused instead of... something else. What's going on in your head right now?"

She hesitates a fraction of a second too long, not having expected the question. Her smile remains frozen in place, her eyes worried.

His eyes close. "Hawke... if you... if you can't talk to me about something, just tell me that. Don't lie to me again. Please," he asks softly.

She flinches. _It's nothing personal. I lie to everyone when I'm this--_ Honesty, openness, and trust. She'd been sitting in this very room when Varric had come up with those words, had suggested making them officially the Clan motto. _If I can't be honest with Papa, if I can't trust him, then what am I even doing?_ "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "It's... habit, at this point." That sounds even worse. "Not you -- I almost never lie to you -- but lying, in general." She takes a deep breath. "Aveline and I had a fight this morning. It ended in a flashback."

Varric takes a moment to process all of that. After a moment, he rises to his feet. "So... kendish rum or catfolk whiskey?" he asks briskly, needing more time- and something to do with his hands. "Habit?" _Damnit. So much for buying a delay, self. Good work there._

"The rum." She surrenders, then, moving from the chair at his desk to the loveseat, curling into the familiar corner where she'd sat so often. _I shouldn't have said that._

After pouring them some drinks, Varric joins her on the loveseat. "Habit?" he repeats gently as he hands her glass over. "When did lying become habit?" _Honesty. Openness. Trust._

"I don't know," she says, misery permeating her voice. "Before the honeymoon? I haven't felt quite myself since Rosemary, but I've only became more aware of how often I'm doing it since I started counseling with Lelldorin. It's not... I try to be honest, and I do trust you, I just... lie when people ask me how I am."

Varric sighs as he slips an arm around Hawke. "Well... now you know you're doing it. So... now you can work on it," he says slowly. "Is that... it's just about... you?"

She nods. "It's only when I'm suffering. I-- I hate admitting it."

"Do you talk to Lelldorin about it? About when you're bad off?" he asks thoughtfully. _Not great she's hiding it but if she's talking to at least someone..._

She pauses a moment too long. "Sometimes?"

_So not really but yes when he catches her out._ "Hawke..." he sighs. "You're hedging with me again, already," Varric says softly, not able to keep the hurt entirely from his voice.

She lowers her gaze to her lap, fidgeting. "I don't know how to talk about the fight with Aveline. I feel... off balance, hurt, rejected. I handled myself poorly, I don't want to admit what... and then, to top it all off, the topic's sex again."

"Well, the sex thing is... fine," Varric says stoutly. "It's not my favorite topic but... well, I mean, you'll be uncomfortable with admitting weakness and such so it's not like I'll be the only one. And... shit, it's not that big a deal."

"It just seems... inconsiderate. I figure I'll wait and talk to Zevran about it. But when I'm with Zevran, I don't want to cause trouble between him and Aveline, so I keep mum until he pries it out of me." She swirls her glass, staring down into it.

"Hawke, the worst pain I've ever felt in my life was when- when we hurt each other by lying and," _say it, coward,_ "going behind each other's backs," Varric says softly, eyes on his drink. _Coward. The word is 'betrayed' each other._

Hawke looks up at him, tears flooding her eyes a second later when the shock wears off. _But.. I **died**. I died, and it hurt you less than my lying?_ She searches his face, looking for any sign of exaggeration, of lying, then swallows hard when she finds none, lowering her gaze. _Never. I'll never, never lie to you again. I swear it. Astea, help me keep this promise. Of all the promises I ever made, help me keep this one._ She throws back her glass, chugging the contents as if to seal the promise between herself and her god.

_If I didn't get you back, if I didn't have the hope, even before I saw your (no, I can't)-- saw you lying there so very still, that the gods owed you a second chance (and more), then... maybe. Maybe it would be worse. But as it was? Having you lie the very day I realized you were family (my daughter), letting that pain drive me to hurt (betray) you, breaking your heart and... gods (thank you)._ "Refill?" he asks roughly.

"Yes," she whispers, holding out the glass. "Papa... I'm sorry," she adds, as he takes it from her. "I should never have lied. It's not... it's nothing you did, really. It was just blind, stupid fear. I grew up lying to everyone about everything: what I was, what I believed, what I knew in my heart. I never thought I'd have someone I could just... be honest with."

Varric gets up for a refill, this time cutting the rum with a bit of fizzy clove water. "Well. Life can be surprising. Given... given how I am, I never expected to have a daughter. And sure as shit not such a tall one," he says, trying to lighten his tone a little.

She ducks her head. "You saw what I came to expect from a father," she points out. "The idea that you'll still be here tomorrow, let alone that I can talk to you, is a miracle."

"Well.. I don't mean to be... blunt- fuck, I do and we both know it," Varric says with a quick laugh. "But Malcolm is a bit of a shit. He's young, sure, but he's weak, plain and simple. I'm glad that you're realizing that you've a real family now. More, that you're realizing what that means for you."

Hawke nods. "I still doubt, you know." She sighs. "After everything I put her through, I wouldn't blame Aveline for leaving me. I should know she won't, but... I don't. So when she says... things like she said this morning..."

"Hawke, that girl is just as devoted and loyal to you as Moonbeam," Varric says bluntly. "I'm not sure how you don't see. That doubt you just mentioned, I guess." He sighs a little as he hands her refill to her. "What was the fight about?"

"Originally? Prostitution," she says, quietly. "It's apparently news to her that I visit whores. Then she..." Hawke pauses here, swirling her drink, then glances up at her Papa. "I'm not trying to figure out how to downplay this or lie to you," she says quickly. "I just don't recall what exactly I've said to you about Rosemary. There are so many tiny details I found myself... at first, needing to share, but later, refusing to speak aloud."

"I think you'd told me just about everything," Varric says after a moment's thought. "At least, there doesn't seem to be any gaps or... odds parts." He thinks a moment more, then adds, "actually, I think everyone but... Aveline and Wynne of the... first circle got the whole story. Flirty got it afterwards, but she got it. A bit thinner on details, but in full I think. Wynne and Lawful really just heard that the bitch raped you before her hair set her shirt on fire and they had to step out."

"She told me..."

Hawke pauses, closing her eyes to brace against the memory. _Now I have given you better than he._

"When she told me why she did it..."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out, opens her eyes. "Aveline said something similar this morning."

Varric glances at her. "You mean beyond being in heat?" He casts her mind back. _What did Rosemary say? Or well, what did Hawke say about- 'she said I always want sex, and she wanted to... she wanted me not to need Zevran anymore.' Annnnd thank you, brain that collects painful strings of words to sear my soul repeatedly. Sometimes your bullshit is handy._ "Nevermind. I... remember." He takes a deep breath. "Can you... tell me what Aveline said?"

She looks at her lap, taking a deep breath. _Pretend it's a play. Something that isn't... something that isn't fresh, isn't you._ "She offered to try and... if more sex was needed, that she could force herself to... provide."

Varric winces. _That... Well. Gather more information_. "Can you recall her exact words?" he asks in an even tone.

_Every Andraste-cursed word._ "You have so many people who love you, why do you have to," she says, her tone flat, uninflected. "If you need more, couldn't Zevran? Or I could try to."

_That's not as bad as I feared. Not great but..._ His mind darts back, frowning. "Okay. Bit of a foot and mouth moment." He cocks his head, pondering. "Have you... ever talked to her about... Rosemary? I mean.. does she realize... she was pretty... out of it, from what I remember of that afternoon. And she's cognitively typical. Err, I mean, she's not as smart as- Third try. Her memory isn't as good as ours. She might not recall details of something she was too distressed to focus on almost two years ago."

"I think she picked up on it afterward," Hawke says, dryly. "Given I froze the kitchen, threw a knife across the room, ordered her to leave, went outside, and threw up."

"But does she know _why_ you did all that?" Varric prods.

"Yes." Her tone is dark, and she looks away, sipping her drink.

"Oookay," Varric says slowly. "What did she say after... that?"

"Not much. I was having a panic attack. She walked me to Seli's and I haven't seen her since."

"Ah. Yeah, that would be... a bit of an obstacle, yes," Varric allows. "This was this morning, right? Probably best to let her process things a bit. Work'll steady her."

_If I hadn't fucked that up as well. Wait, shit. Openness._ "If I hadn't fucked that up as well," she mutters. "I- I mean, she's recusing herself from her case because I was a suspect."

"Okay, we're pinning the 'suspect in a case' thing for later. Focusing on you and Aveline right now. Doesn't she always recuse herself from stuff you're involved in?" Varric points out. "So that's nothing to do with your fight."

"Except she's not _got_ work. Thanks to me. So she's probably," she cuts herself off with a groan, rubbing her temples. "And that's before you get into all the stuff she said about whores and being degraded and--"

"Okay, two prongs there as well- what do you mean, 'not got work?' I can't help but think there's more than just one case active in all of Coalside. Second. What about whores and degradation exactly?"

"She took a personal day." Hawke sighs. "And-- that's what we were fighting about when she said all that stuff."

"Lady Lawful know how to take a day off? Without accounting forcing her to?" Varric shakes his head to get back on track. "Sorry, you were fighting about-" _You have so many people who love you, why do you have to-_ "Wait. She found out you were... with a whore last night and-" _Aveline is basically asexual (which is logical), err, wait, no. Whats the term? Demisexual (Interesting term really. Designating a preference at a midpoint between asexual and sexual. Somewhat inaccurate and relies on a certain viewpoint of sexuality but interesting). Right. No real connection to physically or much of anything but emotional (Hawke. Tentative Merrill.) so... speculation. Cross thoughts of Aveline's sexualty (demisexual) with the concept of whores (degrading?) and..._ "Guessing she finds the idea of you paying for sex to be as good as saying she doesn't love you enough?" Varric finishes aloud, tone distracted and thoughtful. "Puts high correlation between sex and love. Flawed, given it would imply I'm incapable of love, but I doubt she's ever really inspected the theory with any rigorousness. Well, she might be currently, but not prior."

Hawke winces, saying nothing. She takes a sip of her drink, letting the hurt rest in her, not sure what to say and so not saying anything at all. _I don't know what she thinks. But I know it hurts._

Varric frowns thoughtfully, eyes still unfocused. "Probably a bad idea to go over now, you need to settle a little and you're at least a touch buzzed. Bad way to start that talk. But you should talk to her in the morning," he says firmly. "This isn't something you should put off."

She nods, looking down at her drink. "Papa... I know you don't have answers for me but... do I... want too much sex?"

_What (what)._ Varric drains his glass. "Uhhh. Personally? Yes. But for you... I... I mean... if any is too much for me and that's clearly too little for most, then logic would suggest that 'too much' is a variable established per person. As such, I would theorize that such a variable would be best determined with a cost/benefit analysis of each bracket of sex per time measurement. In which case, you would just apply non-sexual measuring criteria." _Oh thank the gods (this I can handle) we're away from sex (thank the gods)._ "So. Is the amount of the aforementioned activity currently engaged in presenting an issue to other aspects of your life?"

"Yes," she whispers, looking down. _It makes things weird between us: either I talk about it and make you uncomfortable, or I don't and I'm not being open. It makes things hard with Aveline. It costs me money, paying whores. It ruins my reputation with some of the other Lights._

Varric frowns a little, not like her tone and... well, ashamed expression. "Alright... compare the benefit you receive from the current activity level to the perceived costs," he says slowly. "How does it shake down?"

_Benefit... what's the benefit? I like sex. I enjoy having it. What do I get from never sleeping alone? Do I really **need** to indulge so often? Or would I be fine if I cut back a bit? What do I get from it? Physical pleasure. A chance to shut my brain off. Better sleep -- last time I slept alone, I didn't sleep well at all, tossing and turning all night. A chance to bond and connect with people. Well, not so much when I buy whores though. That's more for Clan. And, I'm supposed to be forming hobbies with them anyway. So in theory I could... stop. But it scares me. I don't know how to conduct myself without sex as a crutch. _

"Nothing's worth the strain on my relationship with Aveline," she says slowly. _Or you._

"Alright. Assessment time. How much of your cost-benefit analysis is based on cultural standards you've adopted but don't approve of? How much of it is based on speculation of valued opinions as opposed to know valued opinions? How much of it is based on you under-valuing your own needs and wants in comparison to the needs and wants of your significant others?" Varric shifts a little, not entirely pleased with how this is all being expressed. _I sound like a merchant, which is wrong for this. But I need to think like this in order to not devalue the topic. Damnit. I need to work on this. If I'm the only one she can open up to, then I need to be able to talk with her about anything without making her feel like she's hurting me or something. Otherwise, she'll start holding back again in order to 'protect me' from discomfort._

_How much is based on cultural standards you've adopted but don't approve of? I think... in this case... it only hurts because Aveline disapproves. So, not much, it's more about my Clan than about society. How much is based on speculation of valued opinions?_ "Aveline stated her opinion clearly, so it's not speculation, just..." _Just painful to hear. How much is based on undervaluing your own needs?_ "I don't think I'm undervaluing my needs. I need the sense of connection and intimacy with my loved ones, but I don't think I... I don't think I need sex, per se. It's just, I haven't slept alone since just after Rosemary. I barely remember how. " _I keep meaning to spend the night here more often, but every time I do, it's because Isabela's in town or whatnot._ "Since I came of age, sex is how I... how I confirm people like me, how I get them to love me back."

"Are you serious?" Varric demands, knocked out of his mindset at her last comment. "How the hells does that make sense?"

"Sex is..." she begins, slowly. "Aside from you, everyone seems to want it. As much of it as they can get. And I'm.. I'm good at it. So I provide the, the supply, to meet their demand, and they come back for more the next time, and it... engenders goodwill."

Varric facepalms. For a good, solid moment, he just... "Double check that statement with empirical evidence, emphasis on Clan mem... fuck it. Hawke, you just got done saying that Lawful would have to force herself to want more sex. So how does that fit with 'as much of it as they can get' exactly? And let's do some example shifting, shall we? How would you feel if you found out that... Merrill decided that everyone only likes her because she can provide free healing? Or that Zevran has started offering his assassination skills regardless of personal cost in order to make friends?"

Hawke's tone is quiet, subdued. "Merrill doesn't think anyone wants her, she doesn't see why she's so wonderful. Zevran always puts on his playful, flirtatious front, regardless of how he actually feels. It's no different than what anyone else does."

"So if everyone steals, lies and hates, it's okay?" Varric challenges her. "Just because other people have a flaw, doesn't make it a virtue. Get better, then help others follow."

"It's not a lie, not really, just... putting my best attribute out there, letting them see the best parts before they see the worst," Hawke replies quietly.

Varric lifts his face from his hand in order to smack Hawke lightly on the back of the head. "Your... bits are not your best parts," he snaps. "You might note that it's Astea that claims you, not Ciren. Your heart is worth so much, loves so much, that the _Goddess of freaking Love_ is impressed. Maybe, just maybe, lead with that instead?"

She bows her head, tears dripping into her lap. "I'm sorry. I know. It's just... I just want them to love me back. And for most people, love and sex are all bound up together."

Varric sighs, sagging against Hawke's side. "...we do, silly girl," he whispers. "Gods we love you. You need to trust us when we tell you we love you. There's no need to... buy it from us."

She puts her drink on the end-table so she can turn and hug her Papa fiercely, tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I-- I should believe you, but..."

Varric hugs her tightly. "This... might be a bit... weird, I guess? But you know... Lawful knows a truthing spell. Scrolls too, a few of them actually. Would... that help? Hearing it from us, all of us, when we can't lie? I mean... the lot of us are... pretty good at it. Lying. So I can... kind of get..."

_How insecure am I, that he thinks a truth spell is needed? That I think he might be right?_ She shakes her head, with a small whimper. "Today is a hard day. Flashbacks always make me feel... insecure. Small."

"And bad days happen. So next time one does, you'll be able to remember us telling you we love you under a truthing," Varric says firmly. "And we should all do it together. Might help Shadow, Lawful and Moonbeam too. And maybe Flirty, if she can stomach being there."

"Maybe I should... should stop having sex for a little while. To, to prove that, without the sex, they still..."

"I... I don't know," Varric says after a moment. "I think that maybe you should talk to Seli about this idea," he finally suggests. "I mean.. I know they'll still love you, but I'm not sure if... I guess what I'm saying is that I approve but I'm not sure I have enough... context on whether it makes sense for a normal person?"

"It's not as though I'll die without it," she reasons. "Nor will it hurt me, per se. Just... maybe I should ask Zevran, though."

"Sure, I'm just not sure if going cold turkey, so to speak, will have the impact you want? Hence my suggestion ask someone who knows more about it," Varric explains.

She nods. "I hated it, last time I stopped. I... Zevran was shocked at how soon I wanted it again."

"That's... a pretty different case," Varric points out. "Maybe... ease back? Only on such days, not on such days or only so often a week or something? Ration it instead of cutting yourself off."

She nods, slowly. "I should try one date, without sex. Then see if another feels right."

"Wouldn't hurt," Varric muses. "So... you feel good with that? I mean, for now?"

Hawke nods. "Thank you, Papa," she says quietly.

_Good. Not sure how much of this I could talk about without getting awkward._ "Anytime, daughter mine," he murmurs. Taking a breath, he says much more briskly, "alright, now we can unpin. What's this that happened last night? The non-personal side?"

_Unpin?_ "I was with a prostitute and, apparently, there was a murder. They're holding her as a suspect, but they let me go, despite both our testimony telling the truth: we were together all night, the first either of us knew about the murder was when they questioned us."

"How well do you know the prostitute?" Varric starts out with. "Who is she?"

"Not well. Morrigan Black."

"Of the Korcari Wilds? Huh. Unusual pick," Varric comments.

She sighs. "I wanted her for her talents. I was... trying to take your advice."

"...you... hired her to, what, summon some imps? Or quasits?" he asks hopefully. "So you can get used to not going either into a killing rage or panicking?"

"I was working my way up to that," she says with a blush. "First it was.. being with and around a demon summoner. Then her and her eidolon, who looks demonic but isn't quite the same."

"That's not an entirely bad plan. I would suggest maybe asking Q&A to do some fiendish summons before you go for actual sceleratii." He pauses. "And... you weren't going to, uh, do your... connect thing with... them, right?"

Hawke glances at her lap, silent.

"...why? Why would you... what were you trying to... What would that _accomplish_?" he demands. "Hawke, there's- not breaking down or instantly attacking them. That's all you need. There's no reason- and plenty of reason not to _like_ them! Or- or _want_ them!"

"My latest... breakdown..." she says, her voice barely audible. "Was because I... because I didn't realize I had... I wanted to never be in that situation again. So I can keep my promises."

"...so... in order to prevent yourself from... fucking a sceleratis.... you're going to fuck a secelratis," Varric says in a disturbingly calm and even tone.

"If I'm okay with fucking a sceleratis, then I won't... can't... do what I tried before."

"Hawke. By that logic, I should learn to deal with being crushed to death by punching a giant in the nuts. There are somethings you don't get over by _practice_ ," the dwarf groans.

"The... the sex didn't hurt me." She swallows, her throat dry. "It was the panic that hurt me."

"Because you were lucky! In almost any other circumstances, fuckng a lilin would have ended with you being scarred for life at best," he exclaims.

"Is that true?" she asks, her voice timid, small. "Or is that like fucking a Drow?"

"Yes! Drow are mortals. They have souls, they can pick their... ways, their purpose and morality. Their instincts trend them towards authoritarian lifestyles, yes, but most of their 'evilness' is a result of the culture that's developed over time, largely due to the stranglehold the Iron Bitch has on them." Varric shifts a little, turning to face her squarely. "Sceleratii- and pavitra and tulwaths for that matter- are what they are. They're concepts given form. There's no... give in them. Even the chaotic ones can be hard to predict, sure, but they're still... biased. And they always come back to start."

Hawke nods, slowly. "So... there's no reason I should ever..."

"None! I mean, never say never and all that, but seriously, it would be... a frankly ludicrous series of events that would require you to voluntarily fuck a sceleratis for some kind of good reason," Varric says firmly. "In fact, I'd go so far as to say that before you pull that card, summon Andraste and double check it's the right plan. Assume 'no' by the way, demand a clear 'yes' before going ahead with it."

She nods again, looking at her lap, guilt showing clearly on her face. _Forget it, Hawke. Forget you enjoyed-- forget whatever it was you felt during all that. Just forget it._

"Shadow enjoyed what was done to him too," Varric points out gently. "It happened. You didn't know better, he didn't have a choice. Take the good you can from the bad, just like he did. Learn from it, and... use it. With people that love you, that you can trust and be safe with."

She nods again, burying her face in her hands as tears leak between her fingers. _Never. It's too... that kind of play is... **wrong**. Maybe I did get a little something wrong inside me when I-- before, with the Matriarch. It's best to put it aside and forget it._

"You okay?" he asks gently after she's quiet a few moments.

"I'm just..." _Burying this._ "Processing. It's... I don't like... this feeling." _Gods, it's like the day between leaving Rosemary and understanding what she'd done to me. Or no, the night Zevran made me understand._ "It reminds me of Rosemary."

"Well... in a way, it is. I mean, it's kind of a type of rape." Before she can protest, Varric continues on. "Look at it this way. If... Raynare used a polymorph spell to look like Zevran, then had sex with you... even if you consented to the sex, you only did so because you thought she was Zevran. Same thing. If you'd known Tenechka was a devil, you wouldn't have consented. It's not as bad, I guess, because they didn't... realize they were disguised, if you'll pardon the inelegance of the analogy there, but it's still pretty bad."

"Consenting to a bad idea isn't rape. It's just stupid," she mutters. "I didn't ask."

"It's a bit more than a _bad idea_ ," Varric insists. "Sceleratian sex is a terrible, horrible, _dangerous_ idea. And not one you'd agree to in your right mind. I guess... they might not have raped you, but it was... a close cousin to it. It's weird, because there's no... entity at fault, just... bad intel, I guess, but... You live with Zevran, you've heard him going on about consent ethics regularly. Try and work out what he would say if... well, apply his standards to how you'd feel if Zevran found out he'd unknowingly had sex with a slaver."

_Not one you'd agree to in your right mind._ Hawke bites her lip, thinking the matter over as best she can, shoving aside the cobwebs of doubt trying to slow her mental process. _Zevran would be horrified. But is it the slaver's fault, if he didn't know? Well, he's still a slaver. I'd kill him for that. I suppose I should be killing demons. Even if there's something-- no, bad, leave it alone. Is it rape? Not really. Not if it was consensual. But, then, I didn't think Rosemary was rape. So maybe what I did with Morrigan-- no, leave it. I have to ask Zevran. I can't figure this one out on my own._ "I don't know." Hawke sighs. "Zevran's my moral compass in all things sexual."

Varric wrinkles his nose a little. _As much as I hate to admit it, he is the best bet for that sort of thing. Mama Bear is a close second, but Zevran has her beat hands down for shear breath and depth of experience._ "Wouldn't hurt to grab him and Seli for a huddle," he suggests. "Not trying to knock Shadow, but it could be good to get more than just the one viewpoint on it. Additional trusted datasets are never a bad thing, unless you're crunched for time."

She nods. "My instinct is to tell as few people as possible. I don't... They're not going to like what I've done any more than you are."

"Well... good. If you feel uncomfortable with telling people, it means you realize it was a bad plan," Varric says bluntly. "Remember next time that it's easier- for you and us- if you talk to us _before_ you go through with a plan that'll hurt the Clan- which includes you, if you recall- instead of having to explain afterwards. We have a lot of really smart, really wise and really skilled people in our family. Use that."

_Which includes you, if you recall._ Hawke bows her head, hands gripping each other in her lap, suddenly wishing she hadn't put her glass down. _I was trying, Papa. I wanted to make sure I never hurt myself like that again. I wanted to protect you all._

"Deep breaths," comes a deep, burred voice near her head, a voice that means comfort and support. And love, even if rarely spoken aloud. "I know you meant well, daughter mine," Varric says gently. "It's alright. It's alright."

And for a little while, as she cries on his shoulder, it is.


	13. Disguises and masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke makes plans and Isabela meets Zevran's new friend.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?

It's a valid question. When Zevran had said he wanted to introduce Isabela and Helene properly, she'd assumed they were headed toward Preacher's Way. Instead, his source had pointed him deep into Coalside, and after that... well, after that the instructions stopped making much sense. Go into a maintenance tunnel, down into the undercity? A series of lefts and rights, heading down into the dark? Where the heck does this child live, exactly?

"One would think so yes. I mean... they are quite capable of talking care of themself in a fight against most things this high up," Zevran says firmly. "Probably some old shrine or the like," he muses, then flicks a glance at Isabela. "I know I mentioned the 'they' pronoun thing and how they're agender. Did I mention their oracle curse?" he asks a little nervously as he kicks a rock at an oversized rat, crushing the thing's brain, without missing a step. Probably wouldn't have attacked but..

"Only three times," Isabela chuckles. "I might have forgotten, tell me again?"

Zevran scowls. "Hush yourself. I..." He sighs, giving her a rueful look. "Helene can be a touch... awkward. Social interaction and emotions are... things they are not used to dealing with and I suppose I feel rather protective. I fussed much the same when introducing them around at Voice, it's just... sex- with it's association with gender as well Helene's illusionary youth- is... a vulnerable spot for them, especially given we've recently become lovers. Quietly, as appearances could be... troubling to the ignorant." _Am... am I rambling? I am? What on Aldis is wrong with me?_

_He really seems hung up on this Helene,_ Isabela notes, with a coy grin. "Of course you have," she jokes. "You've never been bothered by appearances."

Zevran shrugs a little. "Dealing with an accusation of pedophilia is... not something I'd like to go through. Even if would be quickly and rightly disproven," he says, voice tight. _Especially given that the charge would be true, even if the particulars wrong. I am irreverent and wicked and they love you . My spirit and personality are beautiful. I am a good friend, and loyal._ "So in this case, I am not... bothered by appearances, but aware of their consequences. It shouldn't be much further," he adds.

_He's really stressed about this._ Oddly, Isabela finds herself feeling a twinge of irrational dislike toward this Helene person who Zevran is so concerned about. _What on Aldis are you worried about, Isabela? No attachments, remember? He can fuck anyone he likes, and so can you. Really, you're acting like a silly girl._ "I should have brought my adventuring kit," she jokes, smothering the worry behind mirth. "It's getting dark down here. Much further and we'll be running into giant spiders."

They round a corner, and a flickering lantern lights the corridor. It's hung from a sheer rock wall -- or no, not rock, but old worked stone, inscribed with glyphs. Is that... the city wall? These must be smuggler tunnels then, probably leading to a secret way in and out of Nyra without the guards' notice. Helene does live in Nyra, don't they?

_Note to self, start working on finding out why Helene lives here and see if they'd be willing to move. Or at least upgrade their security. Could probably get Varric to look into it as a test case for doing the same to Hawke's place or something..._ "Is it?" he asks absently, refocusing his eyes. _So it is. Didn't really notice, thank you Auntie Estelle._ "I think this might be it. My contact mentioned a rune covered wall, I just didn't realize he meant **W** all."

Across from the lantern -- not in the Wall, but in the rock across from it -- there's a small hole, just about at head-height. Only a small person could squeeze in there: a child, perhaps, or a goblin, and either would be a tight fit. As they approach, before they have time to wonder too much about how to knock, a ladder unrolls itself, leading about 30 feet higher up the rock to where there's a larger entrance. Interesting security: Helene can always get in, but a visitor requires them to lower a ladder to get to the "back door".

Zevran eyes the wall carefully. _Climbable but only to one with skill or innate ability. And they'd be rather exposed during the climb up, should Helene have thought to prepare any surprises. Or even just summon some wee bestie in the doorway. Not many can fight with any success while clinging to a wall. And they clearly have some kind of alert ward up. Alarm spell, I think Merrill called it? Not bad. Might suggest a patterned cloth over the holes for camouflage._ "And I think that was our cue," Zevran comments, winking at Isabela. "Hello the house... cave...?" he calls out as he heads for the rope.

The ladder is pretty basic, one step above a rope with knots tied in for climbing: pure rope, no wooden slats or anchor points other than the top. It sways as the pair of them climb, but they're both seasoned adventurers, so neither have too much trouble getting up to the top.

Once they step inside, the upper level looks practically comfortable compared to the exterior. Helene waits on a small wooden chair, and there are three others scattered about the area. The walls are lined with overflowing bookshelves, and there's a plush rug underfoot, keeping the cold at bay. The room is lit with oil lamps, the smoke free to escape via cracks in the cave system above, giving it a cozy, homey air. On a small camp stove, a pot of water is set to heat, and Helene is measuring tea into a teapot on the small table in the center of the room.

"Welcome, Madam Zevvy and friend. This one apologizes, this one was not expecting visitors."

"You have a _tree_ house in a _cave_ ," Zevran says with clear and obvious delight.

Helene blinks. "This one is unsure how one has home both in a tree and in a cave."

"Metaphorically," Isabela offers.

"It's laid out in the fashion of a tree house, complete with rope ladder access, but it's in a cave," Zevran explains brightly. "Ah, but where are my manners? Ma sage noble, I have the great pleasure and honor both to introduce you to Captain Isabela of the wonderful Siren's Echo. Ma'bela, meet my dear friend and lover, Seeker Helene.

Helene stands in order to bow low, hands at their sides, in the manner some academics or monks will. "This one is always pleased to be at the service of a friend of Madam Zevvy."

_Friend..._ Isabela nods. "Likewise."

"Isabela is... actually, come to think of it, Isabela is my oldest friend in fact," Zevran comments rather thoughtfully, giving her a warm smile. "One of the few bright spots of my... lost years."

"This one is unaware that Madam Zevvy had lost years. This one would like to offer assistance in recovering them."

Zevran winces "Ah, I was being... I was using an indirect way of referring to my hours as a slave, as to avoid saying the words directly," he explains, tone gentle.

Helene blushes a darker blue, looking down. "Ah. This one begs forgiveness."

Isabela leans against the nearest bookshelf, crossing her arms. _So formal. Do they think they're better than me, I wonder?_

Zevran moves over to Helene to kneel. Taking their hand, he says gently, "relax, ma sage bon. This is a mixed visit, both friendly and with purpose, but nothing official. Ma'bela is a good sort, I promise. And, to be honest, I suspect she finds formality to be less polite."

_They even get a nickname. I suppose I'm not needed anymore, huh?_ Isabela knows it's not fair to compare, but she can't quite help herself: somehow, this feels like the first real threat she has to contend with. _Hawke was interested in me before she was interested in Zevran, and Merrill feels like part of the Hawke package, but this is someone new. Someone I don't know._

"Then, may this one call you Isabela?" Helene asks, turning those pupil-less eyes to said wench.

_Creepy. That's what she is._ Isabela smiles. "Of course."

Zevran frowns slightly, something about Isabela's tone and smile feeling a bit off. "I spoke a bit about you to Isabela, on the way here," Zevran comments. "But to give you a bit more than what you might have chanced across when asking around in regards to Hawke, Isabela is a privateer for Nyra and the captain of her own airship. She's done wondrously for herself," he says, giving Isabela a proud smile. "She's also damn skilled with those blades of hers and, just as important, one of the very few people that can match me in flirting. The divineness of her booty, the allure of her eyes, the thrall of her sway... all of these speak for themselves." Without a smidge of tonal change, he finishes, "she's also forgiving, unconquerable, free-spirited and, while a bit carefree, has never once let me down."

Oddly enough, it's Isabela's turn to blush. _Maybe not **that** much of a threat._

Helene looks awe-stricken. "Th-this one is very pleased to meet you!"

Zevran leans in to faux-whisper to Helene, "I'd tell you what I said to her about you, but I did need your help and if you faint from blushing too hard..."

Helene jolt. "Th-th-this one is not-- this one is hardly anything sp-special!" _Certainly not alluring, enthralling, or unconquerable._ "Wh-what did you need help with?"

_Damn right you're not. No, don't be petty, Isabela._ Bela nods at the camp stove. "I think your water's boiling."

Zevran smoothly rises and heads for the stove. "Tea is... where?" he asks easily.

"This one has already-- here, the teapot, I've measured out the good tea." They stand, picking up the porcelain pot and holding it out toward Zevran.

Zevran snags the teapot and gets the sorted. As he does so, he says, "I gather you had a hint we were coming?" _A rather worrisome thought, given the normal degree of event required for Helene to get a clear vision... then again, it's possible they get lesser hints frequently and I just never thought to ask..._

Helene shakes their head. "When I heard the bell ring, I checked the peephole and saw you. I went to fix tea immediately. Had I been warned, I would have had tea ready when you arrived."

"Fair enough," Zevran comments with a laugh. "That does bring up... might I ask why you live down here in the first place? It's... rather neat, but a fair bit out of the ways."

They bite their lower lip, contemplating their exact answer for a moment. "This one has..." they begin carefully, before abandoning the sentence. "This location was of value primarily for its contents, but this one has found it to be... valuable for other reasons."

Zevran stills. "...Helene... is someone... are you in danger?" he asks, voice very soft.

"No more so than any other resident of Nyra," they say, perhaps less reassuringly than they intended.

Zevran studies them for a long moment, then nods. "Alright. Then why do you find living here to be 'valuable?'" he asks, sounding more curious than worried this time.

Helene shoots a glance to Isabela, chewing their lower lip, before apparently dismissing her as irrelevant -- or unlikely to cause trouble. "I... after Sharran, I... Safety was of paramount importance."

Zevran hisses softly, then moves to give Helene a hug. Over their shoulder, he mouths 'girlfriend, killed' at Isabela. Helene embraces Zevran, pulling away after a short time as usual.

Isabela winces. _That's gotta be hard. This is why I never used to date. What's the point anyway? I'll never wed._

"Well... if you like, we can talk to Varric, see if he has any suggestions on how to improve the place. And... if you want... I mean, if you decide to get a new place, I'd be happy to assist," Zevran offers.

"This place suffices, only... only.. it is not equipped for entertaining, much. But, this one now has enough people to visit instead, between Beinn Verric and Madam Zevvy and Sage zi'Hawke..."

"It is a bit... I think the preferred word is 'cozy' in real estate parlance," Zevran allows, brushing a kiss on their cheek as he rises to finish the tea. "Speaking of... well, I suppose Hawke, in a roundabout way, the reason I stopped by today specifically was in regards to a bit of a murder mystery."

Helene nods. "This one can show you to the mirror room if you like."

Zevran chuckles. "But of course you have a mirror room," he says fondly. "Helene's specialties are scrying and... omens?" he finishes, giving Helene a 'was that the right word' look.

"Visions. This one is honored to serve as Alydra's Oracle."

"Sounds useful," says Isabela, idly. "Don't suppose you'd consider joining my crew, would you?" _Now why did you go and make **that** sort of offer, Isabela? Only, she's just like a few of my crew, ain't she? They? Small and awkward._

Zevran pauses a moment, studying Helene with a curious stare. Then he grins, broadly. "Well that's sorted. I'm going to convince Merrill to make you a full-blown pirate outfit," he announces to Helene. "We can add that to the professor and Joy priest outfit in our line-up."

"Wh-- this one has no intention of becoming a pirate," they protest.

"You're not a Joy- I think Alydra would tackle Ciren to the ground and box them around the ears if they tried to steal you away- but that doesn't mean you can't dress up as one for a bit of fun," Zevran replies, wiggling his eyebrows a bit.

Helene's cheeks darken again. "Th-this one-- suspects the tea is ready," they stammer, clearly changing course midway through the sentence.

"Awww, sh-- they're adorable," coos Isabela.

Zevran beams at them both. "Oh yes. Helene flusters so fetchingly... I must confess I'm a bit addicted to the game," he confesses, tone teasing. "They took notes when I started explaining various manners of kissing last week. Here's me, nude from tip to toe, them not much more clothed, and they whip out parchment and quill. I near to died with how appealing the sight was." As he talks, he moves to sabela and slips an arm around her waist.

Isabela goes in for a kiss -- and not a short one. _Mine, my hero._

Helene kneels, pouring tea for three before removing the insert to prevent the tea from overbrewing. "Tea first, or scrying?" There's no answer. When they glance over, it's to see Zevran wrapped around Isabela. His hands are fisted in her hair, his legs around her waist. Her hands are on his ass, helping him stay up and cop a feel at the same time.

Helene watches, blush deepening. After a moment, they stand, quietly slipping out of the room entirely. Before they get to the door, Zevran pulls away. "Apologies," he calls out. "Got a bit- bit carried way there. I hope you enjoyed?" he adds, wiggling a little to cue Isabela to let him down. Isabela hangs onto Zevran a moment longer, going in for another kiss to recapture his lips.

"Th-this one, ah, this one, was going to prepare the mirrors..." Helene's voice shrinks away to nearly nothing by the end of the sentence.

Zevran breaks the kiss for a few seconds to say, "I do not mind if you watch."

"I-- I do," they say, looking at their hands.

_Ah._ With one last light nip of Isabela's lower lip, he pulls away. "Then we shall stop," he says firmly, moving again, but this time a bit more seriously.

"There-- there is no need, it..." Helene begins. Isabela delays a moment longer, but does, finally, release him.

Zevran slips back to the ground. "This is your home, we are here to ask a favor and I wanted you and ma'bela to get to know each other. If you were enjoying the show, then wonderful. But if we are making you uncomfortable," he smiles kindly at Helene. "Then we shall stop."

Still, Helene doesn't look particularly thrilled. "This one apologizes."

"It's fine, hon," says Isabela, not unkindly. "Not everyone's into sex, I get that."

"Was... was there something in particular that bothered you?" Zevran asks carefully. "If you don't mind talking about it. We can have tea and talk about other things instead if..."

Helene looks down. "This one is... this one wishes they had a body like that one," Helene whispers, cheeks darkening.

Isabela grins. "Most women do." Helene recoils slightly.

"Oh, it's not just women that wish to have my body," Zevran says, deliberately misunderstanding. "Female, male, other and none of the above- this humble self offers joy to all."

"Not me. I'm perfect just the way I am," Isabela crows.

Helene swallows. "Th-th-this one m-meant, an adult body."

Zevran sighs, giving Helene a sad smile. "I know," he says simply. "It is a burden, one I wish you could be spared." _I would offer to take your burden for a time, if such is possible but... I almost think that might be worse. Would it be? Perhaps something to probe for a hint or two on that matter._ "But you honor your" _hmmm_ "diety for doing so in Their name and for their honor."

Helene looks down. "For this one, there was no choice. There was never a choice. This one has served Alydra through lifetime after lifetime, so far back that the oldest records this one has cannot recall the beginning of it. But... this one's curse... There are ways to serve and there are ways to serve, and whatever way Alydra asks, this one will always rise to meet. And yet, had this one made different choices, this one's burden may have been more bearable. This one can only pray that they have atoned enough to make the next one easier to bear."

Zevran moves over to hug Helene again. "You have done incredibly," he says firmly. "Even in just the few years I have known you, I have seen you do wonders for Nyra, for my family and for Alydra. I'm not sure what you think you did previously that made you deserve to be burdened so, but I am sure you have made up for it." _Not that I think you deserve to be punished for something you did in a past life anyway..._

"This one was--" They falter, taking a deep breath. "Another time," they say, as they pull free. "You came to me with a problem?"

"Another time," he repeat firmly, standing. "But yes. We're looking into a murder... two nights ago. It might be sceleratian in nature. Or it could be necromantic or just a real sick bastard. Or a cold blooded killer, masking their actual purpose." He shrugs.

Helene stiffens. "To what degree are you certain that it is sceleratian?" There's an odd note of urgency in their voice.

"Ah... I'm not entirely... not really at all, to be honest," the half-drow admits. "Hawke only got a glimpse of a sketch of the murder. She seems... fairly convinced, but it's not much to work with," Zevran admits. "And she can't investigate herself, due to politics."

Helene takes a deep breath, visibly relaxing. "Do you mind if this one-- if I confer with Alydra briefly before we begin investigation of your concerns?"

"I try not to be a fool- and only a fool doesn't let his expert do the job they're being asked to do," Zevran replies easily.

Helene nods, then gives a brief bow. "This one will return. Please enjoy the tea." With that, they withdraw, deeper into the cave system.

Zevran moves over to the tea, quickly pour them both a mug. Taking it over, he gives Isabela a worried look. "Are you okay?" he murmurs.

"Of course. I'm Isabela," she says, taking the mug with a professional smile.

"Yes, you are, espoir au désespoir," he agrees softly. "And I am your Zevran. Talk to me, please, ma'bela corsaire."

_My Zevran._ She stares at him a moment, then smiles, that laughing smile she does when she's about to put herself down. "Don't mind me," she say, too airily. "I've just discovered I can get jealous after all. Isabela is a wonder of contradictions, it seems."

Zevran stares a moment, then chuckles. "I... do the the same recently myself," he replies in a low voice. "And over Helene, amusingly enough. In this case, I found myself... oddly territorial and greedy when they and Varric hit it off in the realm of nerd-dom, a place I am far from being welcome." He quirks a smile. "But you need not worry, my lovely Isabela. There is plenty of Zevran for all." Just the slightest hint of emphasis on lovely there... or at least most of the word.

She smiles, tracing her fingers along the edge of his jawline in a surprisingly tender gesture. "I've never been dissatisfied yet."

"Tempting woman," he says with a mock scowl. "I'll be sure to... test that again tonight," Zevran promises her.

"You could never disappoint," she says, trying to sound gay and almost managing it, but for the unnatural brightness in her eyes.

Zevran moves to Isabela again, but this time for a warm hug instead of a heated kiss. He shifts a little so he can see the door Helene went out, planning to simply hold Isabela until the oracle returns.

When the oracle does return, their skin --already a pale blue -- is blanched further, until they almost look like a human with a touch of frostbite rather than a true blue individual. They give a bow, standing in the hewn entryway to the stairs they had gone down. "This one will show you to the mirror room now."

"Ma sage ami," Zevran says, obviously noting Helene's appearance. "What's wrong?" _Why is that I have to ask that every five minutes this last twenty-four hours?_

"This one has received an answer. This one's talents are at your disposal."

"...are you pulling a Hawke?" Zevran demands, stepping away from Isabela so he can point accusingly at them.

Helene looks startled. "This one is not a hero!"

Zevran glares at them for a moment. "Good. Keep it that way," he says firmly. "Why are you so pale and upset then?"

"Th-this one has not been performing one's duties to the standard that this one believes is adequate," they stammer, looking at their toes.

_Save me from over achievers and perfectionists._ "How so?" he asks patiently.

"This one has-- has disregarded dreams which, upon reflection, turn out to have been sent from Alydra," they whisper.

"I'm be honest, I'm still a bit on the fence on the... suitability of dreams for delivering extraordinarily important news," Zevran observes. "What kind of dreams?"

"Prophetic ones. This one apologizes, but I must spend time with my journals before I feel qualified to interpret anything."

"Suppose that's fair," Zevran says with a shrug. "Well, after you, Seeker."

Helene leads down the rough-hewn stairs, down into a lower chamber; this one is divided in three uneven partitions using folding screens, with the open area in the center holding more books, some trunks, and a standing wardrobe. They then head to one corner, where a wooden ladder leads up into a roughly hewn chimney of sorts, which they lead the way up into. As they climb, it's clear this was a much smaller space before it's been carved out to make it wide enough for a human; it's a tight fit for Isabela, but they manage to get up into the mirror chamber.

And the mirror chamber is definitely worth the climb. Helene has found a chamber made of natural crystal, naturally reflecting their images many times. In the middle of the chamber is a wide, free-standing, full-length mirror with runes carved into the silver around the rim. Mirrors like this, almost unnaturally clear and large, are pretty much purpose-designed for scrying. It must have been hard getting it in here, and probably involved shrinking magic or a bag of holding, but the effect is well worth it.

Zevran turns from where he's just stroked Isabela's bum with his just kissed hand- to make it better- and looks around. Then blinks. Looks more. "You know, this would be a..." He coughs. _Maybe bring that up later, when they're not so stressed. But the lights, the reflections... if it's not blasphemous, this would make a fantastical trysting spot._ "Where should we stand? Is there anything the two of us need to do?"

Helene shakes their head, moving to a small box behind the mirror and kneeling. "This one can prepare a scrying, or cast the bones, or a divination. This one can also contact extraplanar beings for information. What answers do you seek?"

Zevran stares a moment. "Ummm. Well... I suppose getting to see the killer would be helpful so... can you... scry that?" he says tentatively.

"Do you have a name, likeness, garment, or body part belonging to the intended subject?" Their words come out in a routine fashion, as though they've had to utter this sentence countless times before.

"...I could make them a name?" Zeran offers weakly. "Right. Okay. Can you... scry on a place instead? Probably easier than sneaking us all into the tavern."

Helene nods. "This one can. This one requests a well-lit location, as the magic cannot depict places that are dark with enough accuracy to allow enhanced vision to function."

"I won't be able to see without light through your spell?" he clarifies. "Well, it's morning and it's a tavern- I'd assume the whole place is at least somewhat lit." With that, Zevran then goes on to tell them the name, address and what he can recall of the layout of the tavern Hawke had said she was at. Which is, presumably, the location of the murder. Helene gestures, speaking softly to themself. The mirror fogs instantly, and then clears, revealing the tavern.

The tavern is closed, mostly due to the hour, though the Guard crawling all over the main room doesn't help the prospect of profit much either. There is an outline on the floor where the body was found, and someone in robes is going through the scene, likely casting the usual Detect spells to determine what they can of what happened here. "Hmmm. I don't suppose you can read lips?" Zevran asks idly. _Varric can do so- which was a rather jarring little moment. That sticky spit spell potion thing he does is... annoying. Deserved it though._

They nod. "Of course. It is an essential skill for one who specializes in remote viewing."

"That... makes a great deal of sense," Zevran admits, glancing at Isabela. _Just to check really. Well, also I don't want her to feel... unwanted or unneeded. I'll admit I wasn't expecting ma'bela to be jealous of Helene, but I very much wish for her to be okay._ "I'm mostly interested in any leads they might have. Anything really, but with a slant towards the suspect and perhaps the means of death. For instance, whether the... manner suggests some kind of ritual."

Isabela doesn't see his glance; she's studying the mirror as intently as Helene, looking for anything out of place. _That's a very public spot; if they died there, it was bound to be loud and messy. There are ways for the perp not to be seen, but the execution is important: were they hiding, invisible, did they dim the lights?_

The body was evidently found, rather suddenly, off to the side of the main traffic areas of the main room. It's the farthest point from both hearth and bar, so it gets the least attention and light. The floor is stained a deep and vile red- and so is one of the walls, at least the bottom third of it. The body is gone, but they can still see the half dozen holes where... was the person nailed to the wall? Or, well, spiked, given the size of the holes. The bits of dried... flesh attached to the wall, especially where the abdomen and skull according to the outline, are dried and almost blackened with rot and age. Which would suggest the body was there for days, at the least. Which is absurd, the stench alone would have caused its discovery if nothing else. But again, it's in plain view, if a touch out of the way, so the fact that no-one noticed enough to interrupt what happened was... of interest.

Most of the guards there seem to be just doing a last sweep of the room, the primary investigators having come and gone by this point. One of those remaining appears to be a mage, probably a novice given how often he has to renew his detect cantrip as they watch. Perhaps getting some field experience? Indeed, as they watch, the kender guardswoman with him, though not a mage from the looks of things, points out a few things. 'You can see where the spikes hit bone when they were forced through the body by the shape of the holes.' The mage takes a few steps closer- visibly controlling his gorge- and looks closer but doesn't seem to see what he's supposed to be seeing. After a moment, his mentor offers another hint. 'The spikes were silver, which is a soft metal,' she says, glancing at the holes pointedly at the end of her observation. It takes a few seconds, but the mage finally straightens up. 'Some of the holes are rougher, the sides gouged- the silver scraped bone so it was deformed.'

Helene studies the mirror intently. "The spikes were forced through the body, it seems, and yet they were made of silver. This is unusual enough to heavily suggest ritual magics. This one can lend Madam Zevvy a book on summoning rituals if he would like to know more."

"Perish the thought- much easier to simply ask someone smarter and wiser such as yourself," Zevran says with a wink. He purses his lips. "Takes a lot of muscle- or a fair bit of muscle and equal skill- to impale someone clean through, much less with a soft metal like silver."

"Body had to have been moved," says Isabela. "No magic's going to last as long as that looks like it was there, so it's either artificially aged or moved."

"Blood on the ground would suggest it was done there... or that the body was moved their while still.. leaking," Zevran adds thoughtfully. So... can a person be aged in such a way? Or, well, a body?"

"The previous one had heard stories of this type of spell," confirms the Oracle.

"So possible then? Hmm... any idea why though? I mean... why would they... age the body? There are far easier ways to erase identifying features," Zevran muses.

"Perhaps to conceal the time of death?"

"That's... cheating," Zevran says indignantly, without thinking, then flinches. His expression goes dark for a split second before he smooths it back out to that of neutral interest.

Helene nods. "Life energy may have been drained; this causes similar effects."

Isabela glances up at Zevran, placing a hand on his lower back. She doesn't ask, just offers wordless comfort. He, meanwhile, keeps his attention on Helene. "Oh? That sounds promising. What sorts of things would that be used for? Demon-y sorts of things, I would suspect?"

"As payment for the ritual, or to trade to a sceleratis for other favors once summoned. It lessens the cost of a ritual."

"Well, that sounds lovely," Zevran says with an eye roll. "Any ideas on what kind of... evil thing this would be used for specifically?"

"Likely summons, or in exchange for some favor a sceleratis can grant."

"...which you just said," Zevran says sheepishly, scratching his head thoughtfully. "Can you scry dead people? Or, better yet, is there someway you can... figure out who the victim was?"

"Mages can be hired in Nyra that can speak with the dead, though they typically require access to the shell remaining behind. This one can also provide some information given a few drops of the victim's blood."

"Really now?" Zevran glances at Isabela. "Think you might be up for a little B&E, ma'bela?" he asks roguishly.

Isabela nods. "Always."

\---

A quick spot of spelunking and a stroll later finds the trio across the street from the murder scene. "Thoughts?" Zevran asks Isabela, aware that he's a bit rusty on this sort of thing while Isabela is very much still full-time as an adventurer. It's not exactly a fortress or even a noble's house. There are plenty of ways in for a skilled enough sneak- at least a dozen windows, though most of them on the second floor. Three doors to the main floor- main entrance to the tavern, side entrance to the bedrooms and back down to the kitchens- as well as an external door to the cellar. The front and back doors are closed and locked while the guard works and there's a grunt at the side entrance that they seem to be using when they need to enter and leave.

Isabela point out one of the half-open windows upstairs. "You can get in, I trust? I'll be the distraction."

"Drunken lost floozy?" he asks with a grin and a wink.

"It's a classic for a reason," she laughs.

"Right you are, my darling," Zevran agrees, shaking his head. "Give me... five minutes. I'm a little out of practice," he adds almost sheepishlyl

She plants a kiss on his cheek. "Can do."

With that, Zevran heads off. As Isabela looks the place over, she notices that while there's only the one guard outside the side door, he's talking to someone just inside. Can't make out the other person, but the exterior guard is a young man, probably early twenties at most. Looks human, but could be just a very human looking merikos. Rather bored, from the look of things. After taking a moment to un-right her clothing and spill a bit of wine on her blouse, Isabela saunters up to the man, hips swaying, making sure to stumble every few steps, as if her feet were unsteady under her. "Hey! yer'--" she begins, pausing to hiccup. "Yer cute, for a guard."

Distracted by his conversation- pretty typical bitching about guard duty and why can't sergeants have some pity or a sense of humor about being a little late to a shift?- the young man doesn't notice Isabela until she speaks to him from not twenty feet away. Clearly, a seasoned professional, keen-eyed soldier and all around credit to his profession. "Sorry miss, the tavern's-" His automatic response stumbles as his gaze swings around to see a rather impressive expanse of bared bosom. "...umm, clothes. Closed. The tavern is closed."

"Thassalright," she slurs, looking him up and down. "More innerested in _yer_ tavern, iffin ya know what I mean, yah?" She freely pulls from Glaley wharf-rat and Nyran catfolk dialects, grabbing whatever's handy to disguise her own normal accent.

"Uh, miss, I... I don't have... I'm a guard. I don't have a tavern," he replies with a awkward laugh. Wow. Evidently, he does not know what she means.

Her gaze drops unmistakably to his crotch, then back up to his face. "more'va vessel type? Yah, I can work with that."

Blank stare. Widening eyes. Crimson cheeks. Dropping copper. "Ahh... I- I- what?"

"Aww, what'syername cutie?" she purrs.

"M-matty," he stutters, the blush creeping down his neck. There's a groan from inside the tavern, then a woman about the same age steps out.

"Look... miss... tavern's closed. Find somewhere else to find a drink. Or... work," the human woman says crisply, giving Isabela a quick scan.

Rather than be discouraged, Isabela's eyes light up as she looks the woman over, and she licks her lips. "Well! Well well well. Well well. Well. This is a surprise!" she slurs out.

"No, it isn't," the female guard says bluntly. "Leave."

"Saera," the male guard hisses. "We have to be polite."

"Playin' hard to get, missy?" she slurs, a sly grin on her face. "I won' be put off that -- hic! -- that easily."

"That's Private Saera," she snaps back.

"I love me a good pair of privates," adds Isabela, conspiratorially.

The female guard goes red, then pale in fury as the twisting of her words while the male starts to choke a little. And then Saera notices poor Matty glancing down below her waist. "Eyes!" she barks, furious and embarrassed.

"I- what? I wasn't doing- I thought I saw something move?" he offers desperately.

Isabela steps closer, licking her lips. "What say we take this back to my place, ladies?"

Matty frowns. "Hey, I'm not-"

"Listen harlot, move on before I have you bound and on your knees," his partner cuts him off, causing Matty to go very silent as his brain conjures up some... alternative interpretations of that statement.

Bela steps closer to Saera. "Like that, issit? I can play that way, Mistress."

"What are you on about?" Saera demands.

Matty coughs a little. "Uh, she's, uh... I didn't realize..." He's flushing heavily and clearly... uncomfortable in his breeches. "Can I watch?" he blurts out. Perhaps interestingly, he's looking at Saera when he asks that, not the objectively more attractive Isabela.

"Watch wha-" Her voice cuts off with an embarrassing squeak and she takes a step back. "Matty!"

"Mm, yes, I love to be watched, Mistress," purrs Isabela, smirking at Saera. _Eyes on me, lady, get mad about it._

"Stop calling me that slut!" Saera flares, eager to not look at Matty right now.

"Yes, Mistress, I'm a good little slut," she purrs, looking up at her through her lashes, ready to move when she swings at her.

The guard tenses, hand coming up, but Matty puts himself between the two lad- females. "Saera no! You can't attack a civilian," he snaps at her. "You're better than that."

"But she- she's- she called-"

_Spoil sport._ "Aw, kid, it's all fun and games," the pirate drawls.

"I'll fun and games you!" Saera shouts, trying to push past Matty, who rather ineptly tries to hold his partner back.

"Please do!" She chirps, her eyes dancing as she struggles to contain her mirth. _This is just too easy -- good luck hearing anything inside now!_

"The hells is going on out there!" Awww. Sounds like there's an adult coming. A very pissed off, orcish accented woman by the sound of it. Both of the two younger guards outside the tavern freeze in place, Matty's eyes darting to the door in anticipation of the speaker's arrival.

_Has it been long enough? Nah, probably not. I will run if I have to, but for now, mon sauveur, I will do my best._ She smirks. "The more the -- hic -- merrier."

Saera starts to pull away but isn't done getting to 'normal' distance from Matty, much less shaken off his hands, before a rather rough and tumble looking guard steps out. A female merikos orc as her voice suggested, this new figure not only has sargeant tabs on her uniform, but a heavily muscled frame, a few scars on her check and forearm that look like claw marks and seasoned eyes. "What the fuck are you two chucklefucks doing out here?" she demands, glancing them over for a second before lingering on Isabela.

"Ah, well, you see-"

"This slu- sloppily dressed-"

"Woman is trying to, uh, get inside. She's-"

"Drunk and aggressive-"

"She's not aggressive!"

"-requesting permission to arrest her, sarge?"

Isabela waves. "Yerran orc! That's good. Orcs are great. Hiya. I'm Bella."

"Well, I'll grant you drunk," the merikos orc says dryly. "She take a swing at either of you? Pull out a weapon? Other than her tits?" she adds pointedly to Saera, who flushes.

"She-- she's attempting to gain access to a crime scene," the female guard tries instead.

"Well..." Matty says, wincing at Saera's glare. "Not... really. I mean, she... well, she's been doing that. Being... very friendly."

Saera growls. "Friendly is what you call that?" she demands, disgusted.

"I'm friendly! Very.... Veerrrryy friendly." 'Bella' grins a stupid, vapid grin.

The sergeant mutters darkly under her breath, fighting the urge to cover her face or pinch her nose. "Private, you can't arrest people for hitting on your partner." She studies Seara for a second. "Or you. Or both of you?" She lets out a bark of laugh. "Seriously? You realize most people have to pay for that sort of thing and you want to arrest her for offering it for free?"

"Sarge!"

"hey, I won't charge you nuffin. Yous heroes you is. Brave guards and all. Protect and serve and all that."

"Your civic support is duly noted, but we are on duty, miss," the merikos orc says wryly. "They get off in two hours if you wanted to come back and help with that," she adds.

Saera doesn't seem to really get what the joke there is, but she gets enough of the message to stiffen and glare. "That's entirely inappropriate! I don't need her help to... for anything."

"Naw, course not. Big strong guard like you. You prolly do well fer yerself. Or fer yerself, iffin ya ken." She grins. _Ken might be a bit too far; ease back, Isabela._ "Yes got a room here or we doin' this in the alley?"

The sargeant snorts. "Kind of you to offer, but as I said, we're on duty. The tavern's closed anyway, and having sex in an alleyway is against the law. Be a bit of thing, having to arrest each other afterwards." She sounds fairly amused at least.

"Tha' be a sight. Hafta fight ferrit, I bet," she laughs.

"We're not going to-" Saera cuts off as the sergeant nudges her.

"She's trying to get a rise from you," the much more seasoned guard says, rolling her eyes. "Pretty sure she's at least half serious about the alley, but she's enjoying fucking with you as much as she would fucking you."

And Matty is very distracted again.

"Naw," Isabela drawls. "Fuckin's way more fun."

"Sergeant!" Saera protests, looking mortified and upset in equal measure.

"Calm down, Private," the veteran says in a placating tone. "Now miss, you do need to be moving along. Are you fit to make your way home?"

"P'ry sure I live here now. Furrabit. Ya see, there was this guy, right, and he was, get this, ten feet tall. Ten whole feet! Blew me mind, he did, bein' so big and all, and so _big_ ," she begins.

"What." The sergeant glances at Matty, who is staring blankly at Isabela with a baffled look.

_Perfect._ She continues to ramble on, dovetailing into how the guy worked down in Preacher's Way, but wasn't a preacher, just a janitor, and they were banging, but not like, dating, just banging, and how it was great, but also it was awful because he had this girlfriend...

Less than three minutes into her story, the sergeant cuts her off. "Alright, miss, this is amusing but we have jobs to be doing. Now, do you have a place to stay for the next day or two? If not, you can head to a guard station and they'll take care of you."

"Ah'm gettin' to it!" she protests. _I hope that's enough time._ "The thing is, he was at my place two nights gone, ya see, and the harpy caught me at it, and well, next thing you know, my stuff's in a burning pile in the middle of the floor, so me and my cousin went to stay at this place, which, can I just say, the bedbugs are atrocious here."

In the doorway behind the three guards she sees Zevran, as bold as bold can be, calmly cross her line of sight. Twice. Carrying... is he looting? He's carrying a rather decently sized chest so... Sonuvabitch is looting the place not twenty paces from a trio of guards.

"Sorry for your hardship," the sergeant says, sounding perhaps surprisingly honest about it. "But you can't stay here today or likely tomorrow. If you head down to the nearest guard station, the tavern keeper left the registry. Match your name there and you'll be given quarters for the duration, alright? Do you need help finding it?"

_...Maybe I gave him **too** much time in there._ "Ay, I'll manage. Just lemmie in there to get my boyo and we'll be out of yer way."

"Get in there? Miss, there's no-one but the guard in there," Matty says firmly. "We secured the place yesterday, it's empty but for uniforms."

Saera narrows her eyes. "Actually... he's right. We secured the place last night. Which you should know, if you've been rooming here after getting caught slutting around."

Isabela does the only thing she can think to do: "Last night? What's today, then?"

"Oh for Vangal's sake," Saera mutters with disgust. "How drunk are you?" she demands, then grins triumphantly. "I'd wager drunk enough for a drunk and disorderly charge..."

"My darling wench!" A trilling voice shouts out from down just down the street. Turning, the guards plus one can see a fetching oread woman in a lovely blue dress. Ruddy copper skin, gleaming silver hair. Silver hair?

"Boyo!" she calls, treating the word like a name this time instead of a descriptor. "This bitch was jus sayin we can' go inside." She stumbles toward the oread, making sure to stagger a bit as she does.

"Well, piss on them!" the 'oread' calls back, not getting any closer. "I just say- saw Sammy. He's got a party, we can probably find a person to crash at- place to fuck at."

"Your cousin, I gather?" the sergeant asks blandly.

"Yah, cousin," she says with a nod. "Thanks! Sorry we didn't get to fuck!" she calls over her shoulder, with a cheery wave. When she reaches 'Boyo', she pulls her face down for a passionate -- if sloppy -- kiss.

Which is passionately returned for a solid half minute. When they part, Zevran murmurs, "well hello."

"Move along, slattern!" Saera shouts at them.

"Private, moderate your language," the sergeant snaps at her as she heads back inside.

Isabela winks. "I'm a slattern!" she chirps, grinning at him.

"Nonsense!" Zevran counters. "You're at least a slut with your skill and enthusiasm," he assures her as they link arms. "Also, we should go. Quickly."

"Yup," she agrees, easily keeping up with him as they walk. She waits until they turn a corner a block down the road before she starts to laugh, letting her gait strengthen. "You wicked boy, I saw you looting the place. Where'd you stash it all?"

Zevran nods just ahead of them, where a plain looking chest is sitting innocently on the ground next to a building. "Even this crappy disguise took time, so I didn't have any to spare to stash it very well." Truth be told, his 'disguise' is just some foundation cosmetic he's slathered on his face, a dress and buckets of poise and gall. Wouldn't stand up much closer than he'd gotten, but that's why he didn't come to her, most likely.

"Your disguise sucks," she points out with a laugh. "I was ready to make another twist in my story to cover your hideous rash disease, but they let me go before they got too suspicious."

"I'll just glad I didn't have to find some stilts," Zevran says with a sniff. "Ten feet? Really?"

She raises her eyebrows once, twice. "Where it counts."

"Truly a wonder," he says with a laugh. "A marvel never duplicated- or appreciated enough. But I have some very nice garnet earrings for you that might be a half-decent start."

"Ooh, garnet!"

"I think they might be stolen though. I mean, before I did," Zevran adds voce sotto as they reach the chest. Stooping, he hefts it up and cocks his head to cue her onwards. "Helene should be just a bit further. The guard very kindly gathered up all of the... suspect items from the tavern into one little bundle. I couldn't very well turn such a gift down so..."

Isabela nods. "Well then, let's get going."

\---

Hawke knew to allow an extra hour for Twins time before she'd get a chance to sit down and have a real chat with Seli; still, today it almost doesn't see enough, what with both of them trying so hard to show her cool new things. Finally, however, their mother shoos them off to go play, and the two are able to sit down with some tea and get to the meat of Hawke's questions.

"Unfortunately, this is the part where I need to talk to Bright Seline," she sighs, after they've gotten pleasantries out of the way. "I have questions about my sex life again."

"One moment," Seli says, moving over to shut the backdoor all the way. She'd left it open so she can hear the twins a bit better, but with Silence out there watching them, she's more worried about _them_ hearing something from in _here_. "Alright, start when you're ready," she says, then pauses. "Should I get wine or will the tea be enough?"

"Tea is fine. I had an... idea," she begins, slowly. "But Papa wanted to be sure it was safe before I tried it, so he counseled me to talk to you about it."

"Given his... lack of experience in the matter, that's very wise of him," Seli says approvingly. Instead of wine, Seli hefts herself onto the counter, then gets to her feet. "What kind of idea?"

Hawke blinks, staring up at her. She opens her mouth, lifts a finger. "...what?"

Seli turns her head towards Hawke from atop the counter as she's mostly turned away from Hawke. "The idea you had. What is it?" she asks patiently. "You... just mentioned it ten seconds ago."

"Uh. I was about to mention it and now you're standing on the counter?"

"Ahhh. Mother trick," she explains, turning to get a box down off the top of the cabinets. "I have to hide the good chocolate, Tomas is evidently part mabari." As she explains, she riffles through the box. "Rich and slightly bitter or orange peel?"

She perks up. "Ooh! Orange peel. Anyway, the idea was maybe I should stop having sex for a bit. Force myself to find other ways to spend time with people."

Pulling out a small wax-paper covered block, she returns the box and begins to get down. "Alright... I assume this is coming in response to your fight with Aveline?"

Hawke nods, slowly. "Yes, and... talking with Varric, I... may have admitted that I get sex and love all tangled up."

Hopping down off the counter, Seli sets the block on the table and gives Hawke a gentle hug. "That's not that unusual. Most people have trouble keeping an emotional distance to people they've been intimate with. Zevran and Isabela are actually the outliers, not you in that regard. Which is not an insult to them, mind you."

Hawke nods. "It's more... Papa characterized it as... buying their love," she says, blushing a little. "I... I haven't slept alone in a long time. I don't know how anymore. Being around Clan without expectations might... Am I making sense?"

"A fair bit, yes," Seli says, kissing Hawke's cheek before she straightens up. "It's become the primary means you have to connect with your loved ones. I'll admit I was wondering about that sort of thing. After... right before your trip with Lady Estelle." _When you implied that you couldn't trust that I love you unless we had sex._

Hawke frowns a moment, thinking, then flinches. "Yeah. It's.. As I told Papa, I.. I know that people desire sex, and I... I want them to want me."

"Which is why it doesn't bother you with Varric," she murmurs. _Because he doesn't want sex with anyone, not just you._ "You feel like that's... your best... offering? Your body is the best thing you can offer to people, to prove yourself to them?"

She gives a small nod, looking down at her hands on the table.

Seli takes a seat next to Hawke, reaching out to start unwrapping the candy. Which is evidently fudge. "Have you tried working your way back, figuring out where that kind of thinking got started?"

Hawke nods again, slowly. "It was... I think it was Merrill, to be honest. I didn't realize she liked me until we had sex. And then she was so happy, I..."

"Was she happy about the sex or that fact that you were aware of how she felt?" Seli asks pointedly. "And, I suspect, now reciprocating her emotions."

"Both?" she hazards. "And then it just became how we relate to each other. Zevran has always been so sexual, and Merrill was happy to comply, and it was just the three of us for a while."

Seli nods slowly. "So you have Merrill, who is willing to accommodate nearly anything you or Zevran wants, you, desperate for love and affection and associating it with sex, and then Zevran, who... honestly, I suspect _also_ considers his sexual skills to be the only thing of value he has to offer." That's not his only skillset, of course, but then again... it occurs to Hawke that Seli is unaware of Zevran's other past profession.

"He definitely has some self esteem problems," she admits. "At least I got him to quit his previous profession. That one was tearing him apart."

Seli gives her a curious look but doesn't pry. "But, add into all of that how your only other real influence was Varric, who is asexual and doesn't like to discuss this sort of thing, it's easy to see how your mindset formed. That said, it remains to see how you want to address it." She pauses a moment to gather her thoughts. "So you were thinking of... abstinence? Or just easing off things? What kind of time frame?"

"Um. A month or so? But I'm worried that's overcompensating."

"Well, that's not overly long," Seli observes. "Even... even when Lovan was alive, we sometimes went two weeks or more without having sex. So a month isn't all that very long. Then again, you have sex a lot more often than we did on our busiest. Well, maybe right after we first started we matched you for a bit. But still, cutting yourself entirely might just... be so jarring it ruins the experience. Perhaps limit it instead?"

"What kind of limit?" she wonders.

"Well... It could be a set amount of time per day or week. Or possibly just one night each week. Maybe every three days. Something like that. Reduce the amount of sex you have, instead of going cold turkey." Seli breaks off a bit of fudge and offers it to Hawke. "Or some kind of combination. Scale down to thrice a week for a month, then once for a month, then none for a week or two. See how things progress as you go along the scale."

Hawke takes the fudge, humming thoughtfully. "What if I only allow myself sex with whores? Not counting Zevran. Just, no sex with Clan. That lets me control the frequency -- how bad do I want sex vs how much I want to be with Clan?"

Seli shakes her head. "I would be concerned that would simply cause you to start... reassociating intimacy away from your Clan. Masturbation would be fine, I'd think, as long as you don't start devoting significant portions of the day to it."

Hawke nods. "Alright. Masturbation only, for a month. And solo, only," she adds, already suspecting what Zevran will suggest.

Seli laughs softly. "Just make sure you don't cut out all contact," the priestess warns her. "People need touch. Well most races, including all of those in your Clan. Hugs, cuddling, even kisses are fine. Just... nothing you wouldn't do with Varric. Or at least nothing we don't do." A pause, then a light flush. "Sober. Nothing we haven't done sober. Kissing yes, making out no."

Hawke nods. "Alright, that seems easy enough. I'll give that a shot."


	14. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a victim is identified.

Seeker Helene looks down from the ceiling, glancing at what they've written while in a trance state. There was no pen in their hand; the words appeared in dripping red ink, in a hand unlike what the other notes they have in their sketchbook. At least, they hope it's ink. It's a disturbingly similar color to the sample...

Helene looks over the words, then reads them again, paling. They swallow, looking up to Zevran and Isabela. "The victim is Blaine Christwick. They were raped and tortured to death by a sceleratis the night before last. The murder was committed in a crowded room, but no-one noticed."

"Blaine Christwick... not a name I know right off," Zevran muses, then winces as the rest of what they said trickles in. "Ah... well then. Ah... I suppose that does confirm our suspicion that the- ah, that Blaine was killed in the tavern itself, not elsewhere then moved," he says weakly.

Isabela nods. "Rape implies a succubus, doesn't it?"

"Aren't they about seduction? Rape has little to do with sex. It's about control, about dominance," Zevran says softly.

Helene nods. "Affirmative. Most sceleratii will rape; Daemons will not, notably, but devils will do so as part of their domination and mental destruction, while demons will do so in order to create pain and cause people to act erratically."

"So that's... a third of scelerati ruled out?" Zevran says with false charm. "Such progress." A deep breath. "It seems like our best bet is to look into this Blaine Christwick woman. See if we can figure out why she was picked for this. Is it normal for a sceleratis to... put this much work into things?"

"Not for a simple feeding. This is either an attempt to further a plot, or part of a ritual." Helene takes a deep breath, lets it out. "This is a very elaborate setup for a demon. It is likely to be a devil. Though some types of demons have been known to plan things and behave in a more-- in a more subtle way."

Without any apparent thought, Zevran steps over to lay a hand on Helene's shoulder in support. "Alright. So. That would imply there's something important about Miss- or Missus- Christwick. I suppose we should figure out how we plan to look into her. I don't suppose you have any access to official records or the like that you'd be willing to use, Helene? Ma'bela and I can find out a lot from just asking around but it would be easier if we had something to work with."

"This one will ask around for information."

\---

Hawke spends a few hours making herself noticeably present at the guard station to... mixed reactions. Some of the guard are pleased to have her around, seeing her as one of them in a lot of ways. Others are honored and maybe even a little.. awed, which is both neat and uncomfortable in turns. About half of them don't really seem to care. And... a handful, most the higher ranks (which is where the majority of the Old Guard still lingers), are either coolly professional or outright hostile, depending on their ability to control themselves. Or at least hide their feelings. Still, it seems to do the trick in as much as keeping them on their toes and Hawke is able to find out that Morrigan will either be charged or released at one past midnight, tonight. Well, tomorrow. Less than twelve hours from now.

Which leads to her taking a few hours away to stare at Aveline's front door. Windows are dark but she can see Aveline's cloak in the entrance hall (not that she was peeking into windows actively or anything, she just happened to notice is all) so she's almost certainly there... _She's probably sleeping. Nocturnal and all. Or maybe having a nap. Maybe she has a headache from thinking too much about me. Maybe she's out and forgot her coat. I'm probably not welcome. I should probably go home._ Refusing to give in, she moves to knock before she can talk herself out of it.

There's no response at first, then a soft, eager whine. _Not home. Well. I can give Beka a walk for her. I'm sure that's fine._ Hawke digs out a key, unlocking the door and letting herself in. _She'll appreciate it probably._

Beka rushes at Hawke, presing her head into Hawke's gut urgently, then grabs her by the arm to lead her further into the house. _Trouble._ Hawke tugs her staff off her back, then follows Beka rapidly, moving as fast as the canine will lead her. Beka leads Hawke to the main hall, then towards the room that, in another life, would have been the nursery for Aveline and Wesley's first child. In this life, however, it's Aveline's admittedly too compact exercise room. She does endurance stuff outside, nowadays with Beka, but strength training is done here. It also serves as Aveline's at-home armory, both storage and maintenance, which allows the rest of the house to retain the cozy, welcoming feel it has.

Once at the door, Hawke spots Aveline easily. Curled up on the floor in an awkward position next to the weight lifting bench, Hawke is likely able to put this together for the most part. The barbell and scattered weights make it pretty clear she was working out and managed to hurt herself, though there's no blood and she's breathing, albeit painfully, so she's probably fine. Strange she hasn't healed herself though. Or... wait, she looks like she's unconscious? And... sniffing the air, Hawke can pick up a clear whiff of the brandy Aveline indulges in on rare occasions. She usually only has a finger or two after very trying days, preferring wine for taste or ale for comradery, but...

_Fuck._ "Aveline?" she calls, rushing to her side, kneeling. _Please be okay, please be okay!_ She checks her pulse, looks her over for signs of injury, biting her lower lip the whole time. At her touch, Aveline groans faintly. Her pulse is strong, and even a closer inspection doesn't reveal any blood. The paladin lets out a hiss when Hawke touches her ribs on the left side and a further prodding suggests that at least two of them are broken. She must have lost her grip on the barbell and dropped it on her chest. There's no bruising on her head at least, so that's a relief. Getting this close does make it clear that Aveline has been drinking pretty heavily though. She's wearing a pair of loose cotton trousers and a ratty sleeveless shirt, standard work-out clothing for the guard, but the shirt is stained with alcohol and her trousers are on backwards. Had she gotten drunk, then decided to exercise? That's a stupid idea, but drunks are rather known for that sort of thing...

Beka whines again, then nudges a vial stamped with Bastion's seal on it towards Hawke. Marbari are really are more than mortals deserve... "Good girl," she praises the dog as she takes the vial. "Don't suppose you have a panacea hidden away somewhere, do you?"

She takes the vial, opening it as she raises it to Aveline's lips, tilting her head back a little to facilitate swallowing. _Actually, I could perhaps send Beka to Varric's, get one made up? I wonder if she's still drunk or hungover by now? I didn't know Aveline drank. No, she drinks wine. I didn't know she could get this drunk on something as light as wine. Anything she can focus on to avoid the crux of the matter, especially while she's caring for Aveline. I could make her some tea. It's hydrating._

Beka perks her ears a little at the praise and request. As Hawke administers the (sobered on and slightly chewed) vial, Beka trots from the room. Maybe she does have a potion stashed away somewhere? Seems unlikely but... As the potion takes effect, Aveline's breathing deepens thanks to the reduced pain. She mumbles something incoherent but doesn't wake.

"Aveline, please, I need you to wake up. Aveline. I really don't want to have to carry you to the bedroom. Can you wake up for me?" She keeps her voice level, neutral, pushing down and away the part of her that keeps noticing little things. Like the smell. Or the part where she prefers to work out at the guard station when she can. Or the part where-- "Aveline, please."

Aveline mumbles under her breath again, then one eye opens a slit. "'awke? Izzis good 'ream or bad 'ream?" she slurs. Seems the answer to Hawke's ponder is 'still drunk.' The eye slides closed again, then blinks open partially. "Feeel wurd."

"On your feet, guardswoman," Hawke says, firmly but not loudly. "Come on. We need to get you to bed."

"Oh, izza good 'ream," Aveline says happily, fumbling for Hawke's- hey now!

Hawke grimaces. _Whatever, if I can get her to bed._ "On your feet, soldier." She takes half a step back, despite the awkwardness of crawling on her knees.

Aveline fumbles a bit but manages to at least sit up. She's sagging against Hawke, but she's upright. "'uve you," she mumbles. "ope always 'ream of 'ou. Na the same, but goo."

She grimaces, tears sliding down her face. _Dammit, Aveline... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..._ She hooks her arm under Aveline's shoulders, trying to hoist her to her feet. _Never again am I falling for someone so muscular. Sheesh, she's heavy compared to Merrill._

A moment later and Beka returns to the room. After seeing what's happening, she comes over and stands on the other side of Aveline. Between the two of them, they get Aveline to her bedroom. Which... the bed is entirely untouched. Did she not sleep today? Once Aveline is sitting on the edge of the bed, Beka presents Hawke with the medical bag she fetched for her Winter Alpha.

"Thanks, girl," she says, patting Beka before taking the bag. She rummages through it quickly, looking to see if there's anything to help sober her up. _Well, there is a vial of Delay Poison, which would at least push any further effects from forming. There's a rather old looking vial of Alchemist's Kindness, but that's more for hangovers. A vial of antitoxin, which would do much the same as the Delay Poison potion- not a guarantee but it would prevent instead of merely delay. What would be best is a Neutralize Poison, but that costs over a thousand gold and can only be made by druid and rangers. Aveline's kit doesn't have one, mostly because she can do that herself. Hmm. There's also some smelling salts, which might jolt her into lucidity for a moment or two..._

Hawke sighs. _No, better to let her sleep, now that she's been treated. I'll leave a note and the Kindness sitting out, and tell--_ "Beka, guard," she instructs, moving to help Aveline into a lying down position. "Alright, Aveline, let's get some sleep, okay?"

As Hawke tries to stand up, she realizes that Aveline has a iron grip on her wrist. When she tugs, Aveline whimpers softly, getting an echoing whine from Beka. "'orry, please don't 'eve me," the paladin begs, still mostly out of it but aware enough that she can tell that Hawke- or her dream of Hawke at least- is leaving.

"Of course not, Maoroi," she whispers. "I'll never leave you." _She won't remember this in the morning but if it helps her sleep now..._

Aveline smiles softly, then pulls at Hawke's arm. "Feel sick," she mumbles. "Belly oozing. 'ead all... oof." Her voice sounds... really pathetic. And the way she's swallowing a lot... oh crap.

Hawke pries herself away rapidly. "Beka! Fetch trash can!" she calls, as she does.

Beka grabs the beside waste bin and shoves it at Hawke just as Aveline lets out a sick groan and starts to curl up. Thankfully Hawke is pretty fast and she manages to just barely get the container in place before things start... happening. It's pretty telling that nearly all that comes up it liquid. Did she drink all of this on an empty stomach to boot? No wonder she's so bad off.

"Oh, love," sighs Hawke, exasperation warring with affection in her tone. "What am I going to do with you?" Aveline groans piteously as she vomits some more. Beka whines in chorus, pressing against Hawke as she peers up at the magus with big wet eyes that beg for Hawke to fix all the things. "It's okay, Beka. She's getting the poison out, now." She rubs Aveline's back, trying to impart as much comfort as she can through that hand. "It's going to be okay now."

Beka groans with worry and tocks her tail as thanks. "awke?" Aveline mumbles between dry heaves, empty now. "...this 'ream... bad." She retches again. "Feels..." She swallows hard, then winces. "...are 'ou... you real?"

"Yeah, Aveline. I'm real." Her voice is gentle.

Aveline groans, the discomfort in the noise joined by a bit of shame. "Sorry foooo-" she cuts off as she's caught up in another bout of dry heaves. Finishing, she sags against Hawke. "Never.. gods, this is horr-horrrr- gods."

"You shouldn't drink alone," she says quietly. "And especially never from heartbreak. That's why you go out with friends -- so this doesn't happen."

"Never drinking again, this is horrid," Aveline moans. "I..." She falls silent. "...Hawke," she says as if the concept is just now occurring to her.

Hawke sighs. "I'm really sorry, Aveline. I thought you might want some space, so I made myself wait until now to come over."

"...I thought the same thing. Then I got... stupid," Aveline mumbles, a blush forming under her sickly pallor. "I swear to Vangal I'm ne-ne- gods," And cue more dry heaves, this time including some real pained winces as her still cracked ribs protest the exertion.

"Do you-- should I take you to Varric? He can fix you something." _He's seen this before, from the inside no less._

"No," she says quickly.

Too quickly. _Actually, wait. I've seen Aveline sober a drunk with a touch, a word or a simple gesture. Why hasn't she not only purged her system of toxins but healed her ribs yet?_ A sharp hiss of breath. "Aveline..." she begins, slowly. "Is everything okay with you and.. Vangal?" Aveline's shoulders hunch up a little and she stares into the wastebasket. _Aveline..._ "I'm so sorry," she whispers, pulling her hand back from Aveline' back. "I'll-- I'll call Andraste, I'll get this fixed."

"I don't- I'm afraid to try and see if I can- if I can still. Gods, what kind of paladin is afraid to-" Aveline begins to cry softly.

She swallows, taking a deep, slow breath. "I'm sorry," she says. _It's all I can offer -- meek apologies. You deserve better if I can figure out how to give it to you._

Aveline's head comes around to stare at Hawke. "You're- Hawke, this is my fault. I'm the one too- too- I hurt you so badly, I chased you off, I ruined- I failed you and I ran away and-" This all comes out in a hurried flood of words as she tries to say a dozen things at once.

Hawke shakes her head, tears flooding her eyes. "No, no, never. You never. I didn't leave, nobody chased me anywhere. I just couldn't-- I had a flashback," she adds, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I had a flashback and now you're hurting."

Aveline shudders softly, the motion clearly felt via their pressed sides. "I did though. I... I never wanted you to know- never wanted to admit to myself that- that... it bothered me. How you... wander. I knew, I agreed to it, but I just can't- I'm not as good or-or-or loving as M-M-Merrill or Z-Zzz-"

"You almost drank yourself to death because we had a fight," says Hawke, her tone incredulous with an undercurrent of anger. "You are every bit as loving as Merrill."

Aveline tries to work that out and clearly fails after a moment. "Hurt you so bad," she whispers. "Supoosed to keep you safe and I hurt you. Unurthy. Wrong. Sorry, sorry, sorry..."

"Aveline," she says, more sharply. "You're drunk. We can't have this talk drunk, okay?"

Aveline stares at her for a moment, then nods meekly. "Sorry," she mumbles. "Sta-" she cuts off, blushing, then repeats, "sorry." Beka whines softly as she drops a towel over the rim of the wastebasket. That done, she picks it up and leaves the room.

"Thanks, Beka," she calls to the Mabari before sighing. She moves her hand around Aveline's waist, resting her head on her shoulder. "We're not over. Okay? I still love you."

Aveline stiffens a little. "R-really?" she sniffles, sounding so very unlike Aveline. Aveline is a very bad drunk it seems. Granted, this is a sample size of one, but still. She really shouldn't drink this heavily, for any reason.

"Really really." She plants a kiss on Aveline's cheek. _Not how I wanted to make up but... I can't let her suffer thinking I might not want her anymore._

Aveline starts crying but her body has relaxed, so... happy if a bit maudlin tears? "Love you," she whispers, clinging tightly to Hawke. "Stay?" she asks, this time completing the request.

"Of course. I'll stay. Get some sleep, alright?"

"I'm sorry I'm... I don't like this," Aveline confesses. "I'm drunk."

"I know you are, Maoroi," she sighs, cuddling up to Aveline. "Sleep will cure that."

Aveline doesn't last much longer after that, passing back out but thankfully into a much more natural sleep. Even better, Hawke instantly feels more nervous and apprehensive about things. Which seems bad, but also means that Aveline had been projecting her anti-fear aura until she fell back to sleep. On the floor next to the bed, Beka looks up from the cooking pot she'd brought in and gives Hawke a pleading look. And then does a side shuffle dance that anyone with a dog- or mabari- would recognize.

_It's not like I planned to sleep anyway._ Hawke slides out of bed to let Beka out, breathing deeply as she does. _I'm going to have to go get a hangover cure from Varric, and maybe a chat. She'll be out at least six hours, right? No worries there._

After letting poor Beka out, the mabari crawls into bed with her human. Well, first she gives Hawke a big cuddle and lick as thanks for having opposable thumbs and being otherwise very helpful and great. Locking them both back in the house, Hawke heads to her Papa's, who is thankfully still at home doing some paperwork. While also brewing something that smells like roses and... pumpernickel, with a twist of copper.

"New formula?" she asks, as she leans her staff against the corner by the door.

"Potion, but sort of yes. Bit of an experiment to be honest," he mutters absently, sniffing the air. "On that note, if you smell pine or ooze, say something. Quickly." A pause. "If it's pine, duck while you do."

"Understood," she laughs. "On that note, I've come to beg a favor for Aveline."

"Really?" Varric says with some surprise. "Then I gather you two have talked things... no?"

She grimaces. "I'm looking for a hangover tonic," she confesses.

"Can't Aveline just cure that? Why does she help whoever got-" Varric finally looks up, gaping a little. " _Lady Lawful_ got so plastered she needs _alchemist's kindness_?" A beat as his brain reminds him the most likely reason for that action. "Oh." Less funny.

Hawke glances away, rubbing the back of her head as she blushes just a little. "Yeah. So I figured I'd do her a solid and get some made up. She uh, she doesn't keep it in the first aid kit." A pause. "Or Panacea, either. But I think she was coming down when I got her to bed, so that's done."

"Yeah, I can't imagine she uses it much. I've never seen her have more than a glass or two of wine. Maybe couple of ales or a shot when..." He coughs a little. _When you died. When you..._ "But yeah, I have a couple of doses on hand. Kit in the bathroom, amber-green satchel. It's labeled."

"That explains why she had some expired in her kit," she says, as she heads for the bathroom.

When she gets back with the medicine, he comments, "good thing you swung by then. Stuff has a shelf-life of about three years for standard grade. Can stretch to five or so if it's professional grade but still. Best to be sure. You, uh, you want to talk about it?"

Hawke grimaces. "If you're not too busy."

Varric gives her a flat look.

She rakes a hand through her hair. "That's more dignity saving than anything else, you know. I don't really expect you to be too busy for me."

Varric snorts. "How you holding up?" he asks instead of belaboring the point.

"Been trying real hard not to think about it." She takes a seat, sighing. "Guess it's time, huh?"

"Better to have a handle on yourself before you have to talk it out with Aveline," he agrees.

She nods, slowly, putting her thoughts in order. Letting the things she's been suppressing bubble back up to the surface. She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "She thought she might have fallen from grace," she whispers. "Because we had a fight. Because I had a flashback and I pulled away and I didn't go to her, she thought Vangal would turn His back on her."

"She- wait, why would she think that? Did she- no, she was drunk. How much of this was because she was drunk?" Varric frowns thoughtfully. "How drunk is she, anyway? Like... tipsy, sloppy, trashed or should we grab Moonbeam for a restoration spell or two?"

"Drunk enough to be stupid, break a rib, and not be able to get help. Not so drunk she didn't wake, or seemed unable to understand where she was in a general sense."

"Damn. She alright? Her rib, I mean?" He asks with a frown. "I have some healing potions if..." _The bit about falling is bad, though from how Hawke said it she disagrees, but health first._

"I administered one when I got there. Beka fetched it for me, but she couldn't open it." She shudders. "She could have done worse to herself. She got lucky."

"How did she hurt herself? Fall or something?" he asks with a frown.

"Dropped a free weight, looks like. She was trying to-- I guess, trying to keep busy, keep her mind off it."

"Exercise is a pretty common way of exhausting oneself out, taking your mind of things," Varric says with a nod. "So... physicality is covered. What's this about falling? Faith-wise, I mean."

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "So you remember how I'm... let's say, aggressively Astean these days?"

"It's something I've mulled over a time or... ooooh," Varric says slowly. "Wait, so... she thinks that..."

"She's called me her own personal incarnation of Astea a time or two," she whispers. "If she can't protect me, if I reject her..."

"Woah now," Varric says sharply. "That's entirely unfair to you. Having to... having her hold you hostage like that, even subconsciously or accidently, is entirely unacceptable. Not to say I don't see you two working out and being together for ages to come, but if you can't say no, saying yes is impossible."

She hisses, a sharp intake of breath, and holds up her hand. " **No.** " A deep breath, closing her eyes to let it out slowly. "Don't. I know you're trying to help, but don't say things like that."

"Don't say- shit, no, sorry, I didn't- Aveline would never-" Varric curses softly under his breath. "I didn't mean it like that. Not like that. I just... it's not healthy for either of you for her to... tie her faith to your love."

Hawke nods. "I agree. I never wanted to be anyone's Astea. I never wanted--" She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "We're going to have to talk about that. But the good news is, nothing happened to her faith. She-- I wasn't afraid, near her, until she fell asleep."

Varric winces a little. "Abyss of a way to find out," he commiserates. "How... how are you feeling?"

"Scared," she admits quietly. "She wouldn't sleep until I promised to stay with her. I plan to be back before she wakes. But... it's going to be one hell of a conversation, and I don't know how well I can handle it. And if I have another flashback..."

"...you want a referee on hand?" he offers almost timidly, unsure of how that sort of offer might be taken.

"I don't know. I-- oh, I should tell her about your truthing idea. If you still want to, I mean. Maybe hearing from me that I don't, that sex isn't a problem, under a truthing..."

"I was actually... well, I was kind of thinking that maybe we could make it a group thing. All of us at once, the whole Clan. We can agree on questions before hand and such. I can even get a magical contract made up with a week or so's notice," Varric muses.

Hawke nods. "That might-- That might be good." She sighs. "How did I get into this mess, Papa?"

"Best percentage I have so far is that Teiris finagled a wager between Astea and Keindrinas about whether love or suffering will win out," Varric admits. "Astea's winning, as near as I can tell, if that helps."

"Oh, good." She sighs. "Great." Then jumps, as a knock on the front door interrupts their discussion. "Expecting company?"

"Not that Light Sage zi'Hawke should talk to," Varric says easily. "How disreputable are you feeling?"

"Very," she purrs. "After such a prolonged bout of politics, it's about time Marian Tethras came out to play."

\---

Helene rushes off to do more research, leaving Isabela and Zevran to walk back to Varric's to fill him back in. Isabela is quiet as they walk, lost in thought; _Jealous. Me._ she keeps thinking, still surprised that she can be. Zevran strokes a finger along her arm and gives her a sidelong look. It would be playful, even flirty, to most people's gaze, but Isabela is close enough- physically and emotionally- to see the concern carefully hidden in his eyes. She smiles at him. "Merely enraptured by your beauty," she jokes.

"I am very enrapturable," he says agreeably. "Though I would hope that such would not put that pensive look on your face."

"Was I pensive?" She tilts her head with a small laugh.

"A bit, yes," Zevran says lightly. "Do you wish to talk about it?" he asks, tone less banter and more caress.

She shakes her head. "Not particularly. When I figure out where my head's at, I'll let you know."

Zevran studies her a moment, then nods. "Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to bring up something I'd wanted to talk about since our last parting," he asks. "A good thing, I think."

_Goodie? No, hear him out first, Isabela._ "Alright, you have my attention."

"I wanted to thank you, for being there for Hawke when she was Ru... the drow Enclave," Zevran says softly. "I know it was mostly coincidence that you happened to be chartered for it, but thank you. It... knowing you were there to watch her back was one of the very few things keeping me sane that week."

Isabela flashes him a warm, genuine smile. "How could I do any less?" she chides.

"Easily," Zevran says simply. "Many others- most others- would do less. I know you... do not like... complications. Entanglements. But I trust you when it counts. Especially in... the sort of thing I feared Hawke was walking into. I realize, now, that I was... incorrect, that Auntie of the Amazing Ass is in fact a good person, but at the time... there is no-one I would have wanted at her side more and only two as much, myself included."

"I don't like complications, but..." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I chose Hawke, when it came to it. I won't be her wife, or her pet, but she can be my port: I have to live my life, but I'll come back to her every time." A pause. "Just like I'll come back to you." This she says without looking at him, glancing up at the sky casually.

_Pet? Is that how she sees... No, she just meant..._ "Well... I am glad to be both wife and port," he says carefully, watching her reaction.

She gives him a rueful smile. "You always were better at loving than me."

Zevran is silent a long moment. "No. Fucking, perhaps. Flirting or faking, yes. But loving? No, that is... new and strange even now. I am learning though, thanks to Astea's pluckiest chosen and our innocent Moonbeam." _Actually.. that's a thought. Has Isabela ever gotten the chance to spend much time with Merrill? Even more than Hawke, I think I've learned to love from her._

_You loved me, when I needed you. You gave freely to me, and asked nothing in return. You let me go, when you knew it would give me a better life._ "I don't think so. I think holding onto people, refusing to let them be themselves, is the coward's way out." Her voice is soft, and again she can't look at him, but she's trying, getting words out there. Abstract words, words that could be about anything if she doesn't think too hard, but words.

Zevran nods slowly. "There are many kinds of love, many kinds of loving. Some are... warm and comforting like a blanket during winter. And yes, a bit constricting. Others are protective and hard, limiting but supportive. Some are wild and carefree, unpredictable but always welcome."

"I fuck whom I please, but for love, I need someone who will let me go." Her voice is tender, quiet, now. "Someone who wants what's best for Isabela, not just what they want right now."

"You are what I want, now and always. Just... you being you," Zevran says in a low murmurs, arm going around her waist. It being him and her, his hand rests on her hip, on the lower edge of her stomach.

And hers rests on his ass, the edge of his pelvis. "When it mattered, you let go," she murmurs, just as quiet.

"And when it matters, you always come back," he replies, leaning into her a bit. Then, sensing it's getting too much for her, Zevran adds, "and come forward, behind, in front and to the side on a good day," while winking exaggeratedly at her.

She smirks at him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You know how to sweet talk a girl."

The pair walk in silence for the rest of the way to Varric's, with only the occasional murmured observation about the people they pass. "No, no, look at his balance, not just his gait. That's more than just first time anal, that's a butt plug," he argues as Isabela knocks on the door. Not bothering to wait long after, Zevran opens the door and walks in, clearly at home here. Just in time to hear Hawke's surprisingly flirty comment about politics and play.

"Well, now we know where he got it from," smirks Isabela. "I wonder how much she charges these days?"

_Isabela?_ Hawke hops to her feet, heading for the hallway. "Charge for what?"

"Hawke my love!" Zevran says expansively. "By your tone and commentary, are you putting your stole down or do ma'bela and I need to take turns... _distracting_ you while the other briefs Varric? And by brief, I mean-"

"Did you know there's a mushroom, that combined with a certain type of mineral and a surprisingly common flowerbud, will render an man impotent for about two weeks?" Varric asks the room in general.

Her expression darkens, but only briefly. "I left my stole at Aveline's. Talk quick, though, I do have to get back before she wakes up."

Zevran, mid-wince from Varric's counter, gives Hawke a searching look. "...right," he says slowly, worried about that reaction. We have the name of the victim- Blaine Christwick. Ma sage détective has a spell that causes uses a person's blood to find out their name, profession, time of death and a brief summary of said events."

"Oh good," says Hawke, running a hand through her hair. "Give me the summary?"

"I can do better- somewhat unsettlingly so but better," Zevran replies, handing over the page of blood writing Helene has magicked up. "It's... rather explicit," he warns her.

Hawke nods, taking the paper and skimming it. She blanches as she does so; when the temperature in the air begins to drop, she hands it to Varric without another word.

Zevran winces. "Sorry, I... should have been more clear," he whispers, moving to hug her despite the chill.

Hawke shakes her head, resting it against Zevran's chest as she does. "It's alright. It's been on my mind today. I'm having a rather long day."

Varric looks it over and makes a face. "Well, that's... a pretty good indication of a sceleratis all right. Not confirmed, but pretty solid. "Christwick... Christwick... that's familiar... give me a minute," he mutters as he thinks.

Zevran rubs Hawke's back slowly, catching Isabela's eye questioningly as he does so. Isabela leans against the wall, watching Hawke, one hand hovering near where Zevran knows she keeps a dagger.

"Something about... grain?" Varric continues. "No- yes, wheat. But not her wheat. She's a shipper- or well, her husband was, before he died about... three years ago? Four? He was okay, but she's been making some real progress. Was, I guess. Got a flair for it, good instincts and much better judgment in hiring guards," Varric says slowly. "One of the few caravan guard suppliers that's been thriving, not just surviving of late."

Now it' Hawke's turn to frown in thought. "Which is bad, because there've been precious few caravans that have improved over the past few years. A few companies, but there's been a string of bad luck lately, so to hear one more's going under -- unless she has an heir?"

"Yes, but underage. Like... single digits, I think. Board of trustees will probably take over," Varric says after a moment. "Or... no, no board, but there are some investors. Kid'll probably be bought out and the company divided up. Might be bought up by the biggest investor or by a rival but..." He shrugs. "There's a whole lot of motive in all of that."

She nods. "But who would want the market to go down overall? I guess one of the surviving companies, hoping Nyra will offer more money to tempt them to ship here more? Or someone who doesn't have their route?"

"Could be someone short-sighted too," Varric offers. "A local producer, or just someone that thinks they can recover after the upheaval. But yeah, a competitor is the best bet. Unless someone internal was pulling something shady and this is a cover-up."

"It could be internal," she says, slowly. "But some of the economic troubles we've been having... a demon summoner who is an economics genius would make a lot of sense. Perhaps an investor, or a group of investors across different industries."

"...could be, yeah. Either a demon summoner with some skill of their own in business, or a skilled arcanist with a 'pet' devil," Varric supplies, nodding thoughtfully. "I have been noticing some really... not so much sudden or inexplicable currents in the economy but... constant. Good, bad, and strange all."

Hawke lets out a breath, realizing how big this sounds. "This could be anyone. It could be zi'Ulthis. It could be-- and I can't figure this out. There'll be riots if I'm anywhere near it when it hits the fan. Varric, I might-- the honorable thing to do here is to ask for that wand of yours."

"Hawke, if this is something on that scale, then you _absolutely_ have to be involved! You're a Light- if it's another Light or close to it, then we'll need your... authority and title to make it stick." Varric shakes his head. "But it isn't. At least, it almost certainly isn't. This is recent, last five years at most. You're the newest Light, the last prior was... fourteen years ago. That's way too far back for this to be their power play. And unless you've heard something I haven't, none of the Lights- aside from Oakspeaker, who's a known cleric of Valshathe, who would not be pleased with summoning sceleratii of any kind to say the least- are having anywhere near the kind of bad patch that would lead to this." He shakes his head again. "No, this is lower than that. Lesser noble or merchant class. Christwick's company was promising, but still small."

_If this is something on that scale, there's no way I **can** be involved,_ Hawke doesn't dare say. _They tolerate me playing at being a Light because I'm quirky but ultimately harmless. If I come with serious, credible accusations against another Light, I'll never have power again._ "This is still too big for me to play with. I thought we were solving a murder, not a huge conspiracy."

"In fairness, we might still be," Zevran points out. "This could just be shadows on the wall."

"Not with my luck." She sighs. "No, I just have to be careful. There are probably clues I can provide, information I can obtain. But please keep it quiet?"

"So ad in the broadsheets or massive illusion in the sky asking for clues?" Varric says dryly. "Who do we look like, Lady Lawful? Of course we'll be discreet." Zevran decides to keep his, ah, recent acquisitions to himself for now.

She sighs. "I know, I know. Though speaking of lawful, I really do have to get back..."

"We'll... keep you vaguely informed," Zevran promises Hawke.

"Great." She plants a kiss on his lips -- though a brief one -- and detangles herself, leaving another on Isabela's cheek as she heads for the door. "Come by my place soon, okay? I really do want to catch up with you, I know we keep meeting in the worst circumstances." Then she's gone, grabbing her vial of Kindness on her way out.

Zevran smiles faintly as he takes a seat, then gives Isabela an inviting pat. Varric rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. "So... a bit off topic, but Hawke and I were tossing an Clan... activity around earlier. It's a bit... novel, but could be really good for the lot of us."

Isabela sits, draping an arm around Zevran's neck as she makes herself comfortable on his lap. "Did she finally talk you into the group orgy?"

"...in a sense," Varric says after making a face.

"I beg your what?" Zevran says with a shocked look.

"Emotionally speaking."

"Ah. That makes more- Wait, what?"

"A... heart-to-heart-to-hearts for the whole Clan," Varric begins.

Isabela laughs. "What are you on about, dwarf?"

"Getting things out on the table, addressing some issues that people are avoiding." Varric takes a deep breath. "There's a lot of... bone-deep insecurity and fear in our Clan. So... the idea is that we can tell- okay. Let me try it this way. I still... have trouble expressing how I feel. About... anything. And maybe there's some things that I should tell people. Things they should know, that I've just been.. avoiding talking about."

"This sounds... serious," Zevran says cautiously. "Are we going to be needing shallow graves or whiskey or...?"

"What? Oh, no, not- whiskey, yes, but I just mean... emotional stuff. Not..." Varric waves a hand in the air. "I'm not talking about revealing that you're, I don't know, a secret prince of Glaley or the like. I mean, if you are and want to share it, sure, but I was thinking more personal, relationship stuff."

"None of you better be a secret prince of Glaley," Isabela jokes. "What kind of personal relationship stuff here?"

"Well... different stuff for everyone, I'd imagine," Varric says slowly. "If nothing else, it might help some of the people in- most or all of us to be honest- to hear... 'I love you' under a truthing." A pause. "Right. That's the other part. I was thinking we'd have a few truthing spells up and running. So when you hear the words, you can really believe it. And we'd do it at Hawke's, under her wards for privacy."

Isabela's smile fades. "Truthing spells? Are those _strictly_ necessary?"

"Nothing is every 'strictly necessary' in life really but they are kind of the point for this," Varric replies.

Zeran shifts a little uncomfortably. "That seems... rather invasive?" he puts forward.

"Fair. Hence the wards and such. I was also going to look into a magical contract for us all to sign- confidentiality and such." Varric smiles thinly. "I'm also thinking only truth enforcement, nothing that compels. So you don't have to speak or answer, you just won't be able to lie."

"I want a magical compact of secrecy. Nothing said in this is ever repeated outside." Isabela says this frankly, but rapidly.

_That's what 'confidentiality' means, yes._ "No repeating, no, ah, reporting anything, no... taking revenge or anything like that based on what we learn about each other," Varric agrees.

_It doesn't make it totally safe -- there's still consequences within the circle -- but if I can bring myself not to play the coward..._ "Alright, I'm in."

"Thanks," Varric says with a sigh of relief, then looks over at Zevran.

The merikos drow is fairly pale, for him, but his eyes are steady. "...can... can you get potions to... calm and..."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll get a whole assortment of healing potions, mind and body," Varric promises.

"Good call. This is definitely likely to end in a fistfight," adds Isabela.

"If Varric ducks out at the end, perhaps we can have the other kind of orgy to end it instead," Zevran jokes a trifle weakly.

"Perhaps," she says, with a coy smile.

\---

Arriving back at Aveline's, Hawke doesn't notice any changes. Lights are still out, door is locked, place is quiet, Beka is peering at her from around the bedroom doorway. Following after her, Hawke is treated to the sight of Aveline sprawled across her bed with her face smooshed into the pillow, a small puddle of drool staining fabric. One arm is dangling off the side of the bed, both of her legs are masterfully tangled in the blanket and she's mumbling softly to herself.

Hawke places the Kindness on the bedside table on Aveline's side, then walks around and crawls into bed on the other side. _Now to wait until she wakes._ Aveline wiggles when Hawke touches her, trying to roll atop her probably, as she normally does, but her legs being bound as they are prevents any real success. After a moment, she goes still with a grumble. Beka huffs softly, eyes the bed, then carefully climbs up to lay at their feet on the other side of Aveline from Hawke.

"Strait'en your 'oulders 'awke." _Wait, what?_ "Un'alnce y'rself. Make g'rdwomen yet."

She smiles, reaching up to play with Aveline's hair. "Hey, sleepy." she whispers.

"My guard," Aveline mutters before sinking deeper into sleep.

\---

It takes four hours before Aveline starts to stir, hours Hawke spends... thinking. As she does. Unlike most mornings, Aveline doesn't wake with a sharp delineation of sleep and wakefulness. Instead, she's almost mimicking Merrill's slow evolution from zombie to living. At the foot of the bed, Beka snorts with amusement.

Hawke pets Aveline's head as she wakes; when she's sure the guardswoman is mostly conscious, she murmurs in her ear, "I put your bottle of Alchemist Kindness on your bedside. You might want to drink it."

"...'awke?" she groans. Then really groans, the sounds trailing into a whimper. "Gods," she manages to gasp. Beka whines in sympathy, climbing off the bed to make sure there's a clean waste basket nearby in case there's a repeat of the last time her human made those noises. "Wha... what attacked?"

"Drink your potion, dear," says Hawke, her voice a bit firmer -- and a little louder.

That gets a reaction. Several, actually, but among them is Aveline groping around for and finding the glass of fizzing fluid. Plus side of Aveline waking slowly is that Hawke had time to mix the powder with water and let it fully dissolve first. She gulps it down, the taste giving her pause, but the instinctive desire her body has for water overpowering that. Finishing, she sets the glass back down- three inches shy of the dresser, though thankfully Hawke had grabbed a solid earthenware glass- and flops against the pillow. "What- what potion?" the paladin moans.

Huffing, Beka picks up the glass and sets it on the table, sideways. Then glares at it when it starts to roll off before grabbing it again to repeat.

Hawke gently strokes down Aveline's front, smiling. "That'll kick in soon, so I won't ask you how you're feeling until it does. Do you remember me arriving last night?"

Aveline's eyes are tightly closed but it's still clear she's trying to think of the answer to Hawke's question. '...no? What... gods, what happened? Were... attacked?"

"You got drunk, love." Her tone is only mildly chiding.

"...but I don't drink?" Aveline half-protests, half questions. She swallows hard, her brain slowly churning facts and observations into conclusions. "Did I?"

"My fault," Hawke says quietly.

"I... Hawke, I could lift you over my hand and skip, you couldn't make me drink if you wanted me to," Aveline says absently, then frowns. "Over my head," she corrects herself with a wince. "Why would someone do this more than once?" she groans, laying back all the way, eyes still tightly closed. "My mouth tastes like I ate Varric's soup, my ribs feel like I was bodychecked, my head is worse and my eyes have spikes in them."

"The mouth is because you weren't drinking water, the ribs is because you broke them lifting weights, and the head is because of the water thing again. And-- do you remember anything about yesterday?" She takes a deep breath. "At all?"

"I broke-" Aveline breaks off with a wince at speaking so loudly. _What do I remember..._ "I... yes. I remember... our fight," she says softly. "I remember... cleaning the entire house. Then... deciding that I... I couldn't stop thinking. So... I'd had a couple glasses of wine while I cleaned and it... helped, a little. I was out of wine and couldn't stomach talking to anyone so..." She grimaces.

"Aveline... why didn't you go to Zevran? Or Varric? Or Seli? Anyone would be better than drinking alone like that."

"...none of them are... Merrill maybe. But the rest of them aren't... aren't someone I feel like I can go to for... heavy things," Aveline confesses. "I... should have, rather than... this. Maybe. This was... pretty bad. I should have gone to Ray Platt- my mind healer- but I... didn't want to... talk about it."

"You don't have to talk about it," Hawke says quietly. "We've all suffered. If you go to someone and say, I need a good stiff drink, they'll understand. And more important, they'll make sure you get home safe."

Aveline takes a long breath, trying to tell herself the tears are because of the pain in her head, in her eyes. "I haven't changed as much as I tell myself, have I? I haven't opened up at all, I've just let you into my walls."

Hawke sighs, rubbing her back. "It's... a slow process. You're trying."

"I'm sorry," Aveline says after a few moments. "For... for yesterday, for today. It was just yesterday right, I didn't.. I wasn't... for an entire day, right?" she asks shamefully.

"Yes, this morning is only the tenth," Hawke confirms.

"Oh thank Vangal," Aveline says with a somewhat relieved groan. A second later, she flicks in a steel and gold colored aura and lets out a even more relieved sigh, then takes a very deep breath. "Ugh, so much easier to breath. And my head hurts a bit less too. Why didn't I do that earlier?" she asks herself.

"You were afraid," Hawke says quietly. "Unfoundedly, obviously."

"Afraid of what?" Aveline asks, cracking one eye open to peer at Hawke. "It's automatic, instinctive. You can't mis-heal someone, no matter how distracted or even hurt you are."

"That it wouldn't work." She reaches up to stroke Aveline's cheek, tuck some hair out of the way.

"Why wouldn't I be able to heal some cracked ribs?" the paladin asks, baffled. She frowns slightly, then, "wait... did... do you mean _couldn't_... work? Like... fallen?" She's very still. "...what did I do last night?" she asks, voice tight and scared.

"As far as I know, nothing nearly that bad. I think you were just... feeling very badly after our fight. But I don't actually know." She tries to keep her voice soothing, gently stroking Aveline's hair.

Aveline lets out a sigh. "Good. I..." She frowns slightly, trying to think. "I... I came home. After... after Seli's I mean. I came home, got changed, then went out to get something to eat. I... didn't feel up to cooking. Decided to... call off work while I was out," she admits, looking ashamed. "I just... I couldn't deal with... I didn't trust myself to not... interfere with the case." Her eyes glance at Hawke, then away, at the mention.

She sighs. "Do you want to talk about this now?"

Aveline shifts uncomfortably. "...want, no. And... maybe not _right_ now. I... I'd at least like to figure out what I did last night. And...." Her face grows perplexed. "And how you got here? Not that I'm complaining," she adds quickly.

"I-- I came to talk," she says quietly. "I heard Beka whining, I thought you might not be home and figured I could walk her at least. She took me to you. You were passed out in your workout room. I looked after you." She takes a deep breath. "You, uh... you begged me to stay. So I did."

Aveline hisses. "Gods, that must have- I'm sorry I did that to you. But... thank you for doing it." She takes a deep breath. "I... I remember cleaning the entire house, bathroom and kitchen included. I killed a bottle of wine doing it, which is... somewhat normal, I usually have two glasses while I clean and I normally only do a third of the place at a time. But afterwards, I... I couldn't stop... dwelling so I decided to have some brandy. Things get... blurry after that."

Hawke nods. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.

"Don't be," Aveline says firmly. "You didn't put the bottle in my hand, Quite the contrary, you..." Her brow furrows. "I... I think I can recall you holding me while I vomited. A lot."

She winces. "Yeah, I elided a few things. Beka was extraordinarily helpful as well by the way, if you want to reward her."

"She's my best guard," Aveline says with real love, glancing at Beka. And groans a little. "I'm feeling fine now, girl. You can stand down." Beka studies her for a moment, then deliberately looks at Hawke, wastebasket still held in her mouth.

Hawke smiles. "Stand down," she agrees. "I've administered the antidote."

Beka grunts as she sets the basket down, then lays down herself. With her back to Aveline. The paladin winces. "I... I owe you both heaps of rewards. And groveling," she says guilty. "I... I am deeply ashamed of myself."

She shakes her head. "I'm concerned more about the lack of people to turn to than the drinking. That's-- I don't know what I'd have done if I hadn't had Clan to fall back on."

"...evidently, clean everything, get drunk, break some ribs and vomit while being held by your girlfriend, whom you're having a fight with all the while stressing out your mabari," Aveline rattles off. "And then the morning after, when you feel sick and ashamed."

"Could have been worse, but yes, I'd appreciate this not happening again."

Aveline winces again. "Yeah. Yeah. Next time- and I'd prefer if we could not fight like this again ever- but next time I stop at the bottle of wine," she promises. "Did... did I mention why I thought... or what did I do that made you think I was thinking I... not be able to heal?"

She shakes her head. "But it's not hard to imagine, what with... things you've called me."

Aveline frowns a little, giving Hawke a long look. "What does that- did I... say or... do something to you?" she asks, voice very, very tightly controlled.

"Yeah," she admits, gently, looking for-- she cuts herself off abruptly, realizing what Aveline meant. "No! Not like that. You didn't hurt me. Just, you seemed... concerned about our fight. It sounded like... you didn't think I'd be back."

"Thank Astea," Aveline prays with heartfelt sincerity. "Okay. Okay. I... I know what... my reaction to you being... with, umm, Morgan was bad. I'm not proud of how I feel. And having to walk away when you were hurting was horrid. I felt like... It felt like I gutted you and walked away to let Seli clean up my mess." She bites her lip. "And... about halfway through cleaning I was starting to... If I feel that way about... the profession, does that mean I feel that way about Zevran? I know how much you love him and I worried that... if you... had to pick..." She has to force the words out, the words sticking more and more and finally can't anymore.

"I will never pick." Hawke's voice is dark, her face closing off as she pulls back. "Even if you tried to make me. If you want, need, to leave me, I'll be heartbroken. But I won't choose him over you, or you over him."

Aveline nods, expression tight and pained. "I know that. Mostly. Most of the time. I just... I can't understand why you want me sometimes. I'm closed off, demanding, staid, unadventurous and just... I worry sometimes I drag you down. Make you... lesser. I know you don't feel that way, you've told me you love me, that you like me and I trust you but I just... the thoughts won't go away, not entirely." She swallows. "Drinking... made the thoughts easier to ignore but... also louder at the same time. Somehow. I... gods, why did I keep having more?" _I... I think I recall thinking I just needed to drink more? That's terrible logic, why would I...? Ugh, I've seen far too many drunks to have fallen for that and yet._

Hawke sighs, looking down at her lap. She's quiet for a moment, thinking it through. Then, her tone gentle, she says, "I want you to talk to someone about this. About your... feeling inadequate. I don't know how to help you; I can tell you again that I love you, that I don't care if you're not as sexually active as Zevran, that I love you for you. I could tell you how I'm worried I'm too sexual. I could tell you how I'm swearing off sex for the next month or so. But I don't think any of that will help, and none of it's new."

"Swearing off-" Aveline shakes her head to dislodge the very curious but currently unimportant thought. "Okay. I... I'll talk to Seli, see if she can... recommend someone," she agrees. "I'd like to... talk to you about it as well. And..." She takes a deep breath. "I... do you think that... I mean, would talking to- I wouldn't want to be offensive and we're not close but maybe... for Scale's sake, just say it. Should I talk to Zevran about this?"

"Yeah," she says, with a slightly relieved smile. "Tell him you want to talk seriously and I'm sure he'll back off flirting. He was... intensely helpful after Rosemary. He just loves what he does, is all."

"Do..." Aveline frowns slightly. "He'd really back off?" She doesn't sound skeptical exactly, but rather tentative. Almost wary. "And... and he wouldn't make trouble or expect something for the concession?"

"Nope," she says, with a patient smile. "I've never seen him press the issue when asked to back off. He finds that sort of thing abhorrent -- there's more than enough willing partners to try and push someone who isn't."

Aveline sags a little. "It bothers me," she whispers. "Being... flirted with. Not just him. Anyone but you. And Merrill is fine. It just... it feels... intrusive. I've always hated it. But people get offended if you tell them to stop. Even the people around you, other than the one that was flirting. They act like you're... rude or... wrong, to be offended. That you should be flattered and why are you making a big deal about being complimented?" Her face twists into a scowl. "But it is a big deal. It's personal and invasive and I hate how my having large breasts or pretty eyes or long legs or anything is somehow okay for strangers to just bring up and I can't say anything without being a bitch or some cold freak whose cunt must have rusted out years ago as if not having sex at the drop of a hat is some kind of sin." By the time she finishes, her voice has risen and she's panting harshly.

Hawke reaches up to stroke Aveline's cheek. "I know what you mean. I get catcalled, or I used to before I got so famous. It's... degrading. But Zevran honestly doesn't mean it like that, and if he knew how much it bothered you, I'm entirely sure he'd apologize. He's never given me crap about your not wanting me to talk about what we do together," not seriously anyway.

Aveline leans into the hand, eyes closing as she tries to center herself. "Sorry. I... I thought I'd dealt with that." She pauses with a grimace. "No, not dealt with. Buried. Learned to ignore. It's... becoming a guard made it better and worse. Wearing the uniform meant that most people see that and nothing else. Which I liked. Even more when I started wearing the plate mail all the time. But... it's getting better, but the guard is still two-thirds male and it... shows, in the kind of... behavior that's allowed. Expected. Being tougher, being cold and remote, being the bitch, was better than being eye candy." Aveline takes another deep breath. "Sorry. Thank you for... you had a blasted flashback yesterday after I as good as spit on you and your here taking care of me. Listening to me bitch. I don't des- sorry."

"I love you," Hawke says quietly. "And... _my_ emotional needs are getting met already. That's what Clan is _about_. I don't want to be one of those charismatic leaders with a bunch of devoted followers; I want a real family, where we all help each other."

Aveline winces a little. "That's... that's kind of what I meant," she explains. "We just had... or maybe are still in the middle of a fight. It's not really fair to make you set that aside to take care of me." Her eyes open again and she smiles faintly. 'It feels good, to know you did, that you will, but it's not fair to you. I... should have other people I can go to. I just..." She glances away. "I didn't want to- well, I didn't want to talk about my feelings because it makes me uncomfortable to do that, ever, but I also didn't want to... drag someone you love into our fight. Put someone in the middle of us." _If for no other reason than that while you might never pick one of us over the others- aside from Varric- that can't be said for the rest of us. If it came to it, each and everyone of them would pick you over me without hesitating. I don't blame them for it, given that I've not even really tried to befriend any of them but Merrill but... but there it is._

She sighs. "I talk to Varric about everyone, really. I need a sounding board, and so do you. Maybe it's him. Maybe it's Zevran, or Merrill, or Seli. But you need at least someone you can unload to." _I am such a hypocrite. But maybe that's how I noticed the need: it's better, really, when I can talk to Varric._

Aveline nods, the motion tiny and almost shy. "Do... do you want to talk about... our fight?" she asks quietly.

She sighs again, pulling her hand away. "I think we need to. Do you... understand why I was upset?"

Her lover winces at the loss of contact but she doesn't try to resume it. "I... I think so. At least parts of it," Aveline says carefully. "If I... look down on that profession, then what do I think about the people who hire them? And then there's Zevran, that's another layer. Is... is there more?"

"Well, yes, sorry, that's why I was upset at first, but I more meant why... why the flashback." She sighs. "I was never a whore, if that's what you're asking me. But it was a near thing. Only Varric saved me from being the lowest kind of streetwalker. Today, I advocate for whores, I help build safer brothels, I'm close with several of Zevran's employees, and I hire them. There's a whole lot you could look down on me for."

Aveline flinches, not able to stop the shudder that brings out of her. "Sorry. I just... I would rather sell my blood than my body," she says hoarsely, looking sick. "I can't imagine... gods," she groans, closing her eyes tightly. "Sorry, sorry." Kindness take about ten minutes to kick in fully, so that's probably not helping her reaction to imagining herself in that position.

Hawke sighs. "It was a bad time. I... Well, I'll tell you another day, I think. There's a lot I can't tell you." She shakes her head. "Do you understand what set off the flashback?"

"...something about Rosemary," she says slowly. "I assume something I said triggered it but... I'm not sure what. I was saying something about... about why you needed to pay for love when you have your Clan, I think."

Hawke nods, holding up a hand to stop her. "Don't repeat any more, I just... I'll just say, briefly, why it set me off, so you know what to dance around, alright?"

"...do you want me to ask Varric or Zevran or... someone else?" Aveline offers. "I don't... I hurt you enough already..."

She shakes her head. "No. It's fine. I just..." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Rosemary told me, after. She expected me to be pleased with her, with what had happened. She said... 'Now I have given you as good as he.' She expected me to dump Zevran, because what did I need him for anymore."

"I said-" she cuts herself off, realizing that Hawke had _just_ asked her not to say it. "Sorry. Right. Okay. I... gods. I'm sorry. I would never expect you to dump any of your Clan. I know that's not- I don't have the right to expect you to not go outside the Clan either but... I do. But that's my problem, not yours."

Hawke nods. "What you implied... I don't want you to ever do that. Not for me, not for anyone. I don't want to... hurt you, the way Rosemary hurt me."

Aveline nods slowly. "Have... have I ever really explained how I... feel about sex and... sexual things?" she asks slowly. When Hawke shakes her head, she sighs. "That's probably a mistake on my part," she admits. "I don't... get aroused normally. Like... even seeing people naked makes me uncomfortable. Sexuality makes me uncomfortable in general. Even talking about it, unless it's something I can approach in my role as a guard, makes me feel awkward and... not nauseous, but close to that feeling. Almost dizzy, maybe. Off-balance." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "Unless I like the person that I'm aroused by. It's strange, I know, but if it's someone I choose, if I feel comfortable with being interested in someone, then it doesn't bother me." She shrugs a little. "I don't know why I'm this way, but I am. With you... and a bit with Merrill... I can be interested and be okay with it. With how I feel." Aveline glances to the side, then forces herself to look at Hawke instead. "Being this way... I have some... issues with sex. Obviously you have issues," she mutters. "I mean that I used to associate it with... illness basically. Wrongness. It feels... off to want it. To ask for it."

Hawke nods, slowly. "I can see why that would, yeah. Have you-- well, no, almost certainly not, but I think if you feel comfortable, Varric would be a good ally to talk to about that."

"Why Var- oh right, he's... asexual?" Aveline asks, sounding uncertain if she's correct.

"I think that's the word," she says, with a nod.

"I... I suppose it wouldn't hurt, maybe," she says slowly. "If he's not... it would just be... talk. Academic or... theoretical, I guess. But... the other point of what I was... I wanted you to realize that... even if I don't... know how to ask, I want to ask. If that makes sense. I want to... explore this. With you. And maybe keep seeing if things with Merrill are.... if that's real." Aveline swallows nervously. "But I don't know how. And it scares me."

Hawke reaches up to brush the backs of her fingers along Aveline's cheek. "Alright. But just because you want sex with me sometimes doesn't mean you always want it. Or that you should try to make yourself want it more, for me." A pause. "Also I'm not having sex for the next month, so, we'll explore after that."

"Is... something wrong? Why are you abstaining?" Aveline asks with concern.

"I'm... concerned. When I was talking to Seli and Varric, some... things came up, and I'm not sure they're feeling I... ought to be having. I'm trying to prove to myself that... well... that sex isn't necessary for relationships," she admits, blushing a bit. "I'm going to spend time with a whore if I need to, but I'm going to find other things to do with Clan."

"Wait, you- instead of sex with us, you're going to..." She takes a deep breath. "No. Ask, don't judge. What do you think of sex? I mean in regards to love?"

She blushes, glancing away. "It..." She takes a deep breath. "Varric's already drubbed me for it but I tend to... I tend to think that... well, it's just, people tend to say that I am, ah, good at it, you know, after learning from Zevran so much, and uh, people seem to like that, and they tend to like sex a lot, and it seems like if I can please them, they'll love me more, so if I-- I know it's probably silly, to you, but..."

"You... you think that people have to... please someone, sexually, to be loved," Aveline asks, voice trembling slightly despite her efforts. "So..."

Hawke shakes her head. "I don't-- okay, so, the thing is, I don't know what makes people love each other. Or why anyone loves me. I... it's always been easy for me to love people, you see, so, I don't know what... I can't just not love people. And I pretty much love everyone I spend enough time around. It's just, it's automatic. But I know normal people don't work that way so I'm..." She sighs, raking a hand through her hair helplessly. "What do you even see in me?"

"You care. About everyone. Even people who hurt people, who people that are cruel. You hate what they do, but you'd help them if they asked. But you're not stupid about it, not naive or gullible. Oh, you're not perfect, but whatever, no-one is. You keep trying, even after things that should break you, make you turn away from danger and play it safe. You want to learn and explore, not places really, but people. To know about them, to see how they think, how they live and love. You want to know them, understand them and, yes, love them. How you try to be better, each day a little kinder a little stronger, a little more understanding and wise."

Aveline takes a breath. "You love without hesitation. It baffles me. Terrifies me from time to time. But I can't look away. Even... even after Memento, when I tried to step back, I knew I would't be able to. I didn't want to admit it, was afraid to, but I always knew I wouldn't be able to leave. I couldn't give up how you make me feel. That I felt like I was alive for the first time in years. I don't think I could have... it was before your amusing attempts at learning bladework even. A week or two prior, when... when you came in, all bubbling about how you'd won a few hands of cards the night before so you'd swung by the bakery before coming in. And you handed me a sweet bun as if it was perfectly natural. It was even walnut, my favorite. I'd never told you, you'd just... noticed. And remembered. Not to curry favor, but just... because you wanted to share your joy. I... it wasn't love then, no, but that was when I realized I could still feel something besides duty and respect for people."

Hawke looks faintly puzzled. "Of course I remembered your favorite bun. You ordered it the week before, and the week before that. And the shop was on my way, and out of yours, so it didn't make sense to have you go out of your way to get buns when I could just buy them for you. And you didn't look like you were sleeping well and--" She stops, laughs. "Normal people don't notice all that, huh?"

"They might notice, but they wouldn't make the effort. Not unless they wanted something. Or if they were already friends or the like," Aveline says with a faint smile. "Most wouldn't do that for someone that was still a stranger really. That's why I love you. I can... take care of myself. That way. I did it for almost two decades before I met you after all. It's remembering to live that you give me."

Hawke nods. "I hope you understand how that's strange to me, though? People love me because... I love them? Then why isn't the whole world in love with me?"

"Well... it's not just that you love me," Aveline points out. "I made a whole speech about why I love you just now, remember?" She laughs softly. "Though, to be honest, now that I think about it, that is how it works, mostly. It just takes a while to work- I mean, think about it. Most people are lucky to find one person to love them outside of blood family- and not all of them really. You have... what, almost a dozen? Me. Varric. Zevran and Merrill. Wynne, Andy, Seli, the twins. Isabela. Estelle and Claudia. Over a dozen. Plus I'm sure I'm forgetting some. Sandal. Andraste. Anders."

"I _really_ don't think some of those count. Like Sandal, or Anders anymore, or, well, I'd hope Andraste loves everyone but..." She sighs, shaking her head. "Regardless, we can argue about how love works later. I just want to make sure I really drill it into my head that I don't have to... perform for people to retain their love. That's probably a holdover from my childhood and it's gross and I need to stop." She takes a deep breath. "I would never ask one of you to do that. So I shouldn't ask it of myself."

Aveline beams at Hawke, stretching out to give her a light kiss. And then lingers before pulling back with a flush. "Umm. Sorry. I just... that was really good. What you said I mean," she adds quickly.

She flashes a sappy grin at her lover. "The kiss wasn't half bad either," she jokes. "Oh! Also, Varric had this idea..."


	15. The Whole Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which truths are told

One round of passionate lovemaking later (just to start off the month right, you understand,) they meet up with the others at Varric's place. Zevran, Isabela, and Merrill are sent for; Helene is commissioned to help Aveline with the casting. Seli can come, but Andy stays behind to watch the twins. Helene also knows how to draft up a magically binding contract, which sets Isabela more at ease. Promising a briefing on the latest updates after, the group settle in to argue about the wording while Aveline and Helene set up.

Each person takes a few minutes to come up with a list of questions and a list of statements they want to share in order to make sure people remember what they want to get done- the truthing spells don't last forever after all. That done, they settle into Hawke's basement, currently featuring just about all of the chairs in the house. Merrill flutters around nervously- she takes pride in being Hawke's wife, and thus hosting visitors, family or not, but she has no clue what the procedure for a Family Truthing are.

Zevran is cuddling Isabela, judging her in need of him more than Hawke or Merrill- and he's interested to note that Aveline is shadowing the elf supportively. But not because she and Hawke are still fighting, based on their occasional smile at the other.

"Alright, everyone settled in? Both of their Zone's will only last ten minutes and La- Aveline can only cast it twice, so we do need this to run pretty smoothly," Varric calls out, slipping into his role as patriarch without even really noticing.

Hawke nods, blushing faintly -- this whole thing seems like a large expense, and it's mostly to help her, so she's a little embarrassed by the affair. "I'll go last, if there's time. Varric first, then Zevran, Merrill, Aveline, Isabela, Seli?"

There's a general murmur of assent from everyone, though Varric winces just a little at having to go first. Spotting that, Seli lifts her hand slightly. "I can go first and get us started off instead," she offers. Varric hesitates, then shrugs. "Sure. You go first, then the rest as Hawke said," he finally agrees.

That settled, everyone signs the contract, then the two casters double up on Zone of Truth. That done, everyone that can cast Detect Magic confirms that the Zone is in place and everyone is under its effects. That done, Seli takes a deep breath as she turns to the group. "I consider all of you family. I wish I was closer to some of you, but I love you all." She turns to face Hawke specifically. "I love you. Dearly and truly. I do find you attractive but I worry that my ability to help you as a Bright would be damaged if we had sex. And I cherish that relationship, the fact that I can help and guide you in that way too much to risk it. I do regret that we can't share that part of yourself, ourselves I should say, but it's not a large regret." She takes a breath, then looks at Merrill. "I care for you as well. And I do love you, romantically, but not..."

Aveline has stiffened a little, clearly not aware that Seli and Merrill were intimate. The elf however just beams at Seli. "That's okay. I love you too but not as much as Zevran or Hawke. It's nice anyway."

Hawke smiles, tears already welling up in her eyes. _Seli... I'm sorry I didn't believe you before. Thank you so much._ She doesn't waste time saying so; she can thank her later.

"Anyone have questions fo Seli?" Varric asks. He waits a moment or two but at the lack of takers, he nods. "Alright, I'm up." He takes a deep breath. "I love you Hawke. You're my daughter. Not just legally, but in love and heart. I'd always... I can't have sex. The idea of even trying physically sickens me. I'd considered, more than a few times, putting out the ten thousand or so gold to have a surrogate birth a child via ritual. I don't anymore. We don't share a drop of blood, but you're my heir, our Clan the only continuance, the only legacy I need. I'm content now."

Hawke bows her head, swallowing, the tears picking up in earnest. _I'm going to be crying this whole time, aren't I?_ "I love you, too, Papa," she whispers.

Aveline wordless offers Hawke a soft cotton pocket cloth- one of a half dozen she has. Someone came prepared...

Varric smiles faintly, his own eyes closed to make it easier on a cowardly dwarf. "I also love Merrill. And Zevran," he says, voice less certain than before. "It may have started as just... because you were Hawke's but you're my kids too now. I mean, if you-"

"Of course!" Merrill says loudly, bouncing a little on her seat. "I'm honored," Zevran agrees softly, ducking his head.

"It's... it's more at the 'because Hawke, therefore you' than that, but not by much, but I care about the rest of you too," Varric adds. "You might not be my kids, but you're all family."

"To be honest, I... wouldn't really want a father figure," Aveline admits. "I had parents, good ones, and... but... well, I do want to... connect more, to the rest of you. So... maybe an older brother? Or the fun uncle?"

Varric laughs softly. "Sure, that could work." He considers her a moment, then nods. "Actually... I know this wasn't exactly the plan for this, and you'd never ask, not any more, but... I've never sold drugs. I've never sold poisons. I've never killed a guard. I've never committed treason or espionage. I've never in-" His voice cuts off, causing him to look startled. A second later, he rolls his eyes. "Other than conversations with Hawke, I've never directly influenced a Light or other high ranking official for political concerns. Any other big ones that would... cause trouble you can think of?"

"I... normally slavery and rape, but given... well, you, then no," Aveline says, a bit startled. "Or, well..."

"Go on, asking is free," Varric says with a slightly tight smile.

"Unlicensed prostitution?" A beat. "With minors?" she asks weakly.

Varric's jaw twitches. "No. I've never run or helped with any kind of sex trade."

"Sorry, I didn't really... there was a lot of word going around when we first encountered each other about the Tethras family and..."

Varric's eyes snap open. "Did Bar- did anything ever.."

Aveline shakes her head. "Rumors and a few unconfirmed accusations that never came to anything. But... the feel of it was someone dropping a venture that got too hot, not that there was never anything to find."

"Maybe that conversation later?" suggests Hawke. "I want to be mindful of our time."

"Yes, of course," Aveline says with firm nod. "I just. It would always be in the back of my mind if I didn't ask..."

Varric shrugs. "That's whole point of this little get together. Anyone else for questions for me?"

Isabela begins, "Just to clarify, when you say you care for the rest of the Clan too...?"

"You too, yes," Varric says with a smile. "Since your talk with Hawke about Rosemary," he adds with an apologetic glance to his daughter. Eldest daughter. First/eldest-by-proportion daughter. "All of you all of you. Admittedly, I haven't spent a lot of time with Seli, pretty much none one-on-one, but what I do know, I like. Helene is a newer relationship, but we get on great so I consider us pretty close to be honest."

Helene blushes faintly; Hawke nods, smiling. "I guess my only question is, why me? Surely you ran into dozens of street urchins back when we met; why did you save me?"

"I... to be honest, it was just an impulse. I'd had to fire my previous secretary two days prior for embezzling. I hate doing interviews and shit and I figured, even if you only lasted a few weeks, it would give me time to find someone decent instead of rushing. So I'd toss you some drudge work, make you intercept walk-ins so I could focus and let you go if you didn't work out or transfer you to a warehouse or clerk position if you had some potential." He laughs. "And then you were Hawke. You... you just tried so damn hard. And you're smart, loyal and hopeful. Spunk and grit in equal measure. It was... it was nice. Something I hadn't really had in a very long time. So... I just keep putting off finding a 'real' secretary again and again and..."

"Was there a time when you suddenly started loving me? Or realized you did?"

"In the gut with a sword."

She blushes. _When he almost lost me. When he realized how bad things were at home. Is that what that's meant, this whole time? Not just a reminder of how badly I screwed up, but also his feelings for me?_ "No-- no further questions," she manages, her throat tight as she rubs at her eyes.

"I think I felt it earlier, but that was when I was able to really admit it to myself," Varric clarifies. "I think... I think it was... were we friends before the trip to Golden Green. More came pretty soon after, I think." He takes a deep breath. "Anyway, Zevran, you're-"

"Actually, about that," Zevran interrupts. "Nicknames, how did they work?" At the raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "I mean for you."

"Ah. Well... it's kind of...a stage thing. Nicknames are for friends, but at the same time it's a... protective thing. It's a layer between actually being close. I... I put on masks. I don't... do emotions well. So I pretend to take on roles and act like them instead of myself." The dwarf jerks a shoulder. "It's a good thing, just... that's why I drop it when I'm trying to be really serious."

_Except around me,_ Hawke recalls but doesn't say. Let him have that privacy. She knows, and that's enough.

"And the second nickname?" asks Isabela, frowning as she thinks this over.

"Second... oh. The first time is more superficial. I don't always change it, sometimes my first read it accurate enough. But most of the time it's not as accurate as it could be, not to who a person is once you know them better. Dandylion for instance... well, to be honest, I didn't really respect Merrill that much at first. I didn't give her enough credit. She might... drift from topic to topic like a dandelion seed at times, but she can focus and what she's thinking is often more relevant than you might think at first glance." Varric rubs the back of his head. "In my defense, it was also about how, uh, fiercely she protective she was about Hawke."

Merrill shrugs a little. "No, that's fair really. I was... worse back then. Having a family has grounded me a lot," she says softly.

Hawke flashes Merrill a small frown. "You were great, even back then. I didn't like you at first, but you already had that infectious joy that I love most about you." She pauses, then flushes again. "Sorry, I just hate when anyone talks badly about Merrill, even herself. Zevran?"

Merrill beams at Hawke, leaning over to kiss her cheek, then lay against the magus. "So..."

Zevran nods a little. "Ah... I'm not entirely sure what I can say other than the confessions of love, so I hope people have questions?" he says weakly. "I love Merrill, Hawke and Isabela, body and soul. I care for Helene deeply and could see loving them in no great time. I do see Varric as a father, a... role I have dearly missed since my birth father died. I care for Seli- and Andy for that matter. I wish I was better friends with Aveline."

Oddly enough, Isabela blushes, putting a hand over her mouth faintly. She seems pleased, however.

Hawke asks, trying to sound casual, "What's your opinion of people like Varric, who don't have sex?"

Zevran opens his mouth, then winces. Tries again, admitting, "pity."

Varric rolls his eyes. "I don't-"

"I know, I know. You don't consider it something to be missed. But just because a blind man can adapt, can thrive and lead a wonderful life doesn't mean they aren't denied the joy of seeing a breathtaking portrait. Or their child's first smile."

That gets a moment of thought from the dwarf. "I guess that's fair. I'd point out that sex can be bad as often as good though, even when it's consenting and above board in every way. Takes up a lot of focus and energy too."

Zevran shrugs a little. "I would say it worth it, but I'm a little biased. I don't see such people as... lesser really, just... cheated, I suppose. And I wish I could help them find that joy. In your case, it's clear it's not a... medical condition or a result of trauma that might be addressed, but simply who and what you are. And that saddens me a bit, but I am pleased you enjoy life regardless."

"And people that just... don't like much sex?" Aveline asks.

"I would want to know why, to see if it could be... addressed, if it was a wound. If it is just them, then..." Zevran spreads his hands. "Then that is them. No-one should be required, expected or pressured to have more sex- or different sex- than they wish. Provided, of course, that they are giving the same consideration to others."

"Did you love me right away?" asks Hawke.

"Not truly, no. There was gratitude. And joy at being free, at being able to touch and pleasure a person entirely by choice. But no, at first it was out of payment for freeing me, and because I had nowhere else to go," Zevran admits. "I actually fell for Merrill first. Shortly after the to-do with the Dog Lords. Watching her play with the mabari pups... I just... I realized I could still... still notice, still care for and appreciate innocence instead of just wait for it to be torn."

"My lost moon," Merrill whispers in bittersweet elven. "I love you so much."

Zevran offers a lopsided smile. "As for Hawke... it was, strangely, Anders that started things. When you approached me to risk my life to save the life of a man you loved, a man that Merrill had sobbed in my arms about because he was going to take you from us... I still said yes. Because you asked me, because I couldn't let you do it alone." He gives her a rebuking look. "You still tried to anyway, but you were dumb then. Dumber."

She nods, looking down at her lap. "I really am sorry about -- but you know that, by now. It's Merrill's turn next."

"True, but it is good to hear you say it now," Zevran points out with a smile.

"I love all of you," Merrill says simply. "Zevran and Hawke the most but it's like comparing the sun and stars to mortal fires. Not very fair really."

Seli winces a little at the... somewhat unhealthy degree of devotion that implies, but doesn't say anything. Aveline frowns a little, wondering. _Would it be wise to continue deepening things with Merrill? Would it even be even close to an equal bond? Would... would it be worth it anyway?_

"What about Aveline?" Hawke asks.

"I love her too," Merrill assures them all.

Hawke nods. "From you, I want less an answer as... well, you can't really give me a promise but I want the best you can manage. Can you, will you--" She takes a deep breath. "I will die before you," she says, her voice not even wavering. "Will you live when I do? Is there anything I can do to ensure that you can recover after the mourning period has passed? That you're not overly dependent on me? It's, it keeps me up at night sometimes, worrying," she adds, taking advantage of the truth zone.

Merrill hunches down a little. "...I... I think I'd... I'd break," she admits. "If I lost you or Zevran. If... if it was both of you, at once, I think it would kill me. But Papa and Aveline and Seli could fix me if it was just one of you, with the other's help."

Aveline pulls Merrill a bit closer, wrapping one arm around the smaller woman. "You're not alone, Merrill," she says firmly, her protective instincts fully roused. _Yes. It's worth the risk. If I can be there for her, after... And she can be there for me. If my suli blood is strong enough, and Wynne suspects it will be, then... I won't want to be alone either, and Varric is a few decades older than any of us. More than a few, actually, even Merrill._

"Then I'll do what I can to help ensure you have people to help you." Hawke smiles, wiping some tears from her eyes. "I'm done, if anyone else...?"

Merrill sinks down a little, cuddling deeply into Aveline. She worries at her lip for a bit as people look at each other to see if anyone is going to speak up. Before anyone does, she blurts out, "I want a baby. Babies."

"Ummm," Zevran says wittily.

"I know," sighs Hawke. "So do I, at least a little. We'll talk later?"

"Okay. But I do. Maybe twins, like Seli," the elf says stubbornly.

"Bless your poor deluded and unsuspecting soul," Seli murmurs.

"...alright, I think I'm next?" Aveline says after a little spot of silence. "Okay. Okay. So. Obviously I love Hawke. She taught me to live again after... after my fiancé Wesley died. I've recently realized, again thanks to her in large part, that I've not made as much progress on that as I'd like. More... let her in, rather than come out of my shell. I want to reach out to the rest of you more. Maybe even find some friend outside our Clan. It's... very hard for me. I don't..." She goes silent, trying to collect herself.

"Take your time," Hawke says gently.

Merrill cuddles closer to the paladin, then leans up to kiss her cheek. Aveline starts a little, then smiles faintly. "Thank you. Both of you. I... I have trouble... sharing. I spent so long by myself that... I just... it's hard. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Aveline," Zevran says softly. "I may speak a great deal, but more often than not, it contains very little real content. It's not much different than your stern and professional front."

"...yeah. Guess not. More approachable though. Anyway. Sex bothers me. Not- not having it, exactly. I'm saying this badly. Sex is personal. Deeply intimate. To me, I mean. The idea of having it with someone... casually causes me actual, physical discomfort. Even flirting."

"Oh Ciren, Aveline, I'm sorry," Zevran says instantly. "I should have noticed-"

"I didn't want you to," she interrupts him. "I didn't want anyone to. Saying you don't like being flirted with, complimented, just leads to trouble. People get offended, it starts rumors and... I've gotten used to it. I don't like it, but I'm used to it."

"That's-" Seli's voice cuts off. "Okay, that's _not_ fine, anywhere or for anyone, but it's... not something we can do much about in regards to Nyra in general. But here? For Clan? Aveline, you should have said something. None of us would want you to be hurt like that."

Hawke beams at Aveline. "I'm proud of you for sharing that."

"Yay me," Aveline says weakly. "So... that's... that's what I have. Do any of you- questions?"

"Would you mind a clarifying question about... your aversion?" Zevran asks gently.

Aveline winces but nods. "You can ask," she allows.

"What level of... attention, physical, verbal and so forth, are you comfortable with for each of us?" he asks after a moment's thought on how to phrase it.

The paladin looks a little taken aback, but thinks it over. "Could... Isabela, can you go while I think that over?"

Isabela swallows. "Uh. Yeah. I can go." She rubs the back of her head, looking around the room. "Full disclosure, I asked for the contract, I really don't want a lot of what I'm going to tell you getting around. I can be a very... private person."

She takes a deep breath. "I love Hawke. I've been in love with her for a lot longer than I'm comfortable admitting. She-- I have sworn never to marry, and she makes me wonder sometimes if that was a good choice." At Hawke's expression, she holds up a hand. "I don't plan to ask for marriage! I just wonder."

She takes another deep breath. _Come on, Isabela, don't back down now._ "I love Zevran. I have loved Zevran since the day we met. When I swore never to marry, I knew there was only one man that could make me consider breaking that promise. If I had to choose between Hawke and Zevran, it's him every time." She doesn't, can't, look at him, or at Hawke. Instead, she studies the ceiling.

"I... I am not sure. I think I would pick Merrill," Zevran says weakly, looking deeply pained. "She... Isabela and Hawke would survive without me. I love them, I love all of you so much my heart aches at times. But they would bleed and hurt and yet they would recover from my loss."

"I would pick Hawke," Aveline says softly. "Above... above anyone." She swallows. "Even Nyra. Coalside." A deep breath. "Vangal."

Seli lets out a soft gasp despite herself. More than anyone else in the room, the priestess can really feel the... weight of those words.

"I would never want that," Hawke whispers, furiously. "Your oaths are -- I can't imagine my being more important than your oaths."

"All oaths but one," Aveline corrects Hawke, meeting her gaze. "Vangal's first oath, the one we all pray hardest to make ourselves one day. That we'll find the one we can love with all of ourselves, that we'll find the Astea to our Vangal. I'll uphold every oath I can, fulfil every duty, but if I have to, that's the oath that matters the most to me. And to Vangal," she adds with a serene smile.

Seli blinks a few times. "That... you wouldn't even fall. I mean... I don't think so?" Varric shrugs- he's never made much study of religion really- and glances at Helene.

Helene shrugs as well. "Only Vangal or a Vangalite can say for certain, but this one understands that to be the case."

"I'm not Astea!" Hawke takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tries to calm herself. "I'm not even that special. I just..." Another deep breath. "Isabela, did you have anything else to say?"

"You're special to us," Aveline snaps. "I said the Astea to my Vangal- I'm not a god in mithral scales and you're a Herald in wai-" Her mouth snaps shut, voice halted not by the spell but her own sense, a touch too late. "Ummm. That's a guess. I mean, I have good reason for it but it's a guess," she says quickly.

Seli's eyes are very wide as she stares at Hawke. "Two of y- damnit!"

Hawke pales. "Can we please get back to Isabela now," she asks tightly.

Isabela sighs, opening her mouth. Nothing comes out. She blushes. "That was going to be sarcasm." A deep breath, she closes her eyes. "Isabela's not the name my mother gave me when I was born. It... I'm not-- I was going to share what it was, but I'm not comfortable with the whole audience. Zevran knows it, and I've made it clear I don't want it said. Nor do I really care to go deep into what was done to me, but... Zevran saved my life, in more ways than one. He's the one who made it possible for me to become Isabela. I--" She stops again, not from the spell, but out of sheer nerves. She tenses, hands closing into determined fists as she forces herself to blurt out, "I named myself after what he called me that night."

"Beautiful soul," Zevran murmurs, remembering what he'd called her that night, after she's angrily declared that Naishe deserved to be dead for being weak and broken. Belle ame. He's looking down at Isabela with a tender smile- and slightly pained eyes.

"I like Isabela." Merrill tilts her head. "I meant the name, but also the person too. She's fun. I think I confuse her a lot but she's never mean to me. And she helped me learn how to saunter."

Isabela opens her eye, startled. "Thanks," she says, surprised. "I like you too, Merrill."

Of course, having opened her eyes, she's now gotten a glimpse of Zevran's face. Her own expression softens. "Don't get me wrong," she points out, her voice tender. "I spent years building up a new self, a self I could live with. But you're the one that got me through that night, and your memory got me through the rest of the bad ones. I never thought I'd see you again. I thought I'd always regret letting you trade your freedom for mine. I should have gotten you free, but I didn't. Thank you." She takes a deep breath, adding, a bit less sentimentally, "Uh, so, any questions?"

Merrill is biting her lip, looking... sad. She's a kind-hearted sort, this story is probably making her a bit weepy. Probably that's it.

"Did you ever actually have a ship before the Echo? Or did you make that up?" Varric asks instantly. He sounds serious but... he's got to be trying to move things past the awkward, emotional part. "What? Been bugging me for years."

Aveline gives a slight smile. "Actually, I have to admit to being curious how you got the Siren's Echo."

"Yeah, of course I did. It only lasted a few months before the damn crew mutinied, but to be fair, I bribed them to begin with, so. It was mine by right, but I didn't want to fight a drawn-out battle to get it, so I paid them to just go with it and we set sail before anyone thought to check if it was still in the harbor."

Aveline snorts. "I... I think I'm ready to... talk about boundaries for each of you. Who wants to know?" She pauses, glancing at the raised hands around the room. "All of you, of course. Why did I even ask? Okay. Hawke. Pretty much anything, as long as you ask first and no-one else is involved- that includes just witnessing it. Or being aware of it directly. Merrill.. talking about sex is fine. Flirting is fine, just not too... lewd. Hugs, kisses, fine. Touching... over clothes. Fine. We can... work on more, if you-" There's a pause in talking as Merrill kisses Aveline soundly. She lets it go on for a few seconds before pushing Merrill back. "I wasn't done," she says gently.

"Oh. Sorry," Merrill says in a small, chided tone.

"The same rules for... sexual displays in public for Hawke apply to you. I don't like to... put on shows, of any kind. Hugs and cuddles that- if you wouldn't do it to Wynne or Varric, don't do it with me in public. And that includes Clan, in this case."

"Varric... you just... there's nothing sexual in you, so I'd actually be fine with hugs or even talking about sex with you. I don't really see why we would that often but... it doesn't... mean anything from you," Aveline muses.

"Fair enough," Varric says agreeably. "If nothing else, we could gripe about those weird perverts and their sex over a few pints or shots."

Aveline snorts, then winces. "Ah... actually, quick digression- if any of you ever see me having more than a few glasses of wine or a single tumbler of something like brandy, then stop me. I... I don't like what happens to me when I drink more than a little. Anyway. Seli... I actually wanted to ask if you know another Joy that I can talk to about some of my issues with sex. Unless you think you can...?"

Seli shakes her head. "I already speak with your lover, that would be a conflict. But I can give you a few names."

"I thought as much," Aveline says, nodding. "Thank you. Zevran and Isabela... gods you two make me uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I know that's really terrible to say, I'm sorry, but I just..."

Isabela holds up her hands, opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. "Sarcasm again," she admits a moment later. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable, but I understand if you don't want to talk to me again. Wouldn't be the first time a woman said that she never wanted to see me again because I'm too flirtatious."

Aveline looks a bit off guard. "What? No, that's not at all what I meant. It's not your fault, it's my strangeness," she protests.

"No it's not," Seli cuts in. "You have every right to decide your level of sexual interaction with people. But Isabela isn't at fault either, because you didn't tell her until now."

"Would you... be okay with us if we did not flirt? With you, specifically, I will admit I do not think I could stop entirely, even just when you are present," Zevran confesses.

"Yes, that would be fine," Aveline says quickly. "I mean, I'd prefer if you... weren't too... blatant or lewd about it around me but it's only really bad if it's directed at me. Or very overt."

"I can do that," Isabela confirms.

Aveline relaxes. "Thank you. Both of you. And you as well Seli," she adds. "I... I do want to... get better with it. I do sorta l-" She blushes. "Okay, I really like having sex with Hawke," she mumbles. "So I want to get... more comfortable with sex in general."

Hawke smiles at her. "I'm glad."

"Right. Oh. Ummm. I never actually said much about Seli so... Hugs I guess? Again, I guess you're like Varric. Umm. Helene... I don't really know you," she says apologetically. "I don't particularly see you as sexual, so I guess you're on the same level as Varric and Seli? But maybe a touch more distant, I'm not sure I can really see us hugging as we are right now."

Helene nods. "Understood. May this one ask clarifying questions at a later time?"

"You don't want- actually, I suppose if you're asking me, we could recast a double Zone then for free, it's the Contract that cost anything," Aveline realizes. "Yes, that sounds fine. Just..." She pauses a moment. "We should come up with a faster way of keeping in touch with each other," she suggests. "As a Clan, I mean, something that doesn't depend on Hawke spreading word or Varric's spy network he thinks some of us don't realize keeps tabs on us all."

"I have a spy network?" Varric says with wide eyes, getting giggles and snickers from Hawke's triad.

"This one also records information about Hero zi'Hawke."

"I ha-- dislike when they call me that," mutters Hawke.

"This one apologizes for forgetting protocol!" Helene squeaks.

"It's-- do you really think it's just protocol?" wonders Hawke. "I dislike being called that because--" She cuts off, with a frown, as the Zone stops her. A moment passes as she puts her thoughts in order. "I dislike being reminded of the worst day of my life," she says carefully. "It also feels mocking. I don't feel like a hero, most of the time."

"That would be the deeply held insecurity and the lack of self-worth your monstrous bitch of a mother instilled in you kicking in, hero is entirely accurate," Zevran says idly. then winces. "That... is less humorous at current, my apologies."

"Hawke. You've done the deeds and acts of a Hero, a true Hero, thrice over at least," Aveline says softly. "I understand you doubt yourself, but never doubt that we, your loved ones, your Clan, think you a Hero. Think you worthy of that respect and... trust."

"I know," she says, with a sigh. "It's not so bad when Zevran says it, or you. But I barely know Helene, and it can be hard to read their tone sometimes. And when complete strangers come up to me and thank me, it's... at best, very odd, to be thanked for dying, for hurting my closest loved ones, for barely managing to prevent a tragedy."

"This one holds you in the highest regard," confesses Helene. "This one is awed by your deeds, and honored to be allowed in your presence." A pause. "This one is also honored to be allowed in Madam Zevvy's presence. This one may be easily awed by figures of legend. This one is trying to remedy that, to become someone who can speak to noteworthy figures without blushing."

Zevran tosses a warm smile to Helene- and a wink.

"That's a very negative way of looking at those events," Seli points out. "You gave your life so others could live, put your love for us above your very existence. Can... if you'd had another option. Actually, how about this- at the time, not in hindsight, not after the luxury and curse of more time to think, but _at the time_ , did you have a better option?"

She shakes her head. "No, of course not. I did the best I could, with the information I had. I've mostly stopped beating myself up for it. Actually, I've mostly stopped hating myself in general. I just struggle sometimes."

"I've looked over the ritual- had a few others do the same- and so far, there weren't _any_ options. What you did was impossible. Taking the ritual from him? Shouldn't have worked. Flat out. I mean... you were a still slightly green magus- a martial caster- with no experience with rituals of any kind, up against a seasoned necromancer using his own custom made ritual that was blessed by his patron deity, one that your principals oppose in nearly every way," Varric says, voice heavy and solemn. "You shouldn't have had a chance. And yet, you performed a genuine miracle and saved us all."

Helene nods. "This one theorizes that Alydra provided some level of support in order to make this possible, as magic is one of Their domains. But it is only a theory."

Hawke bows her head, overcome for a moment, pressing her hand over her mouth. She gives a helpless smile as she lowers her hand, tears dripping down her cheeks. "I... I suppose I must have."

Varric reaches from his stool to take Hawke's hand in his. "So... hero. My hero," he says softly.

Merrill beams at the pair as everyone gives them a moment. Then her brain does its thing. "So that's... Astea, Vangal, Ciren, Mileen, Uryll and now Alydra? You're almost halfway there! Only like two more? Three?"

"Two would be forty-seven percent so... close enough," Varric supplies.

"Who's next?" asks Hawke loudly, clearing her throat. "Any more questions for Isabela? Or are we on me?"

"Helene first," Zevran says from Isabela's lap, where he's playing with a lock of her hair.

"And it looks like we still have plenty of time, we're not even through the first castings," Varric notes. "Might need to refresh after Helene though."

Helene nods. "This one is unsure what type of confession to make. This one has already confessed my awe and adoration for Hawke." Why does _that_ make Hawke flinch?

Aveline coughs a little, turning her head to hide her smile. Smirk, smile, same thing really.

"Well..." Zevran considers a moment. "This isn't just about Hawke, though she is our focal point. In fact, that's kind of the point. I mean, her being the focal point is... not bad, per se, but not entirely fair on her. Or us. So is there anything you'd like to share with any of the rest of us? Either about us, or just something about yourself you want known with certainty?"

Helene shrugs. "This one is straightforward. This one does not have a gender, and prefers the pronoun They. This one is an oracle of Alydra, and has been for most of this one's existence. The previous one also served Alydra, but not in that capacity."

Merrill tilts her head a little, giving Helene a curious look. "How do you decide what clothes to wear?" she asks without malice.

"It is difficult. This one strives to achieve an androgynous look to avoid being misgendered, but this one also needs to achieve a mature look to avoid being treated as a child. Madam Zevvy has been very helpful." They pause. "This one does not, as a rule, lie, so this exercise is less exciting to this one than it might be."

"...yeah, probably," Varric admits. "Half of us are masterful and habitual liars"

"And I may not lie often, but I don't put myself forward personally that often," Aveline admits.

"Thank you for answering," Merrill says to Helene. "Could we talk later? I've never met a samasaran. Or an oracle. Well, I might have but I didn't realize? It sounds interesting but maybe not Truthy interesting?"

Helene nods. "This one is always happy to spread knowledge. This one has been told that they should warn people, however. This one prefers to ask many, many clarifying questions when new information is acquired."

"I like questions too!" Merrill says, beaming.

"Ahhh... maybe this talk should be... supervised," Varric says warily.

"Acceptable," Helene says with a nod. "We shall reconvene at Beinn Varric's home, say, tomorrow evening over supper?"

"I'll bring chili and cake and apples," the elf chirps.

"Apples? Never mind. Alright, anyone else have anything or are we ready for Hawke's turn?" Varric says firmly.

After a round of headshakes and silence, Hawke takes a deep breath. "Right, okay. My turn." She smiles. "Surprising no-one, I love you all. Even Helene, just a little. I'm not going to sit here and rank people, because my heart mostly doesn't work that way. There are... I suppose tiers is the best way to think of it, but it's all love, pretty quickly after I meet someone. When I see them, really see who they are, how can I help but love them? Mortals are endlessly fascinating, layer upon layer, no two alike, like snowflakes."

After a brief pause, she adds, "but I'm really not Astea, I swear."

"As for sex... I'm worried I'm too sexual, so I'm going to cut back for a bit. I'm not at all bothered by Aveline's lower sexual interest, or Zevran's higher: it's just different, and I love them each for it. It'd take a lot for me to-- actually, I'm not really sure how to stop loving someone. I still love Anders." A brief pause, then, softer, "part of me still loves Rosemary."

"I recognize that that's unhealthy," she adds quickly, running a hand through her hair. "I do a lot of unhealthy things. Recently, I gave Aveline and Varric a scare. No," she corrects, shaking her head. "If I'm going to do this.... I tried to hurt-- kill myself. It was special circumstances; I've thought about doing it before, but I never really wanted to, and I don't intend to try again. It was the fi--" She frowns. "That was the only time I tr--"

It's Varric that figures it out first, despite the increasing concern everyone is feeling. "Memento Mori," he says quietly. "Try, 'other than Memento Mori, that was the first and only attempt.'"

Hawke lowers her eyes, grateful. "Other than Memento Mori, that was my first and only suicide attempt."

"That's good," says Isabela, relieved. "I've got you beat there. It's not a great place to be."

Zevran tights his grip around the lock of hair, but quickly relaxes the pull before it can be more than a split second of pain. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Merrill shifts uneasily, something Aveline notices. "Merrill?" she says softly, cupping her cheek.

"...twice, when I was a girl," the elf mumbles. "I... b-botched my first try. M-Marethari saved me the s-s-second time."

Hawke's face twists into an expression of pain and compassion. "Oh, my sweet Merrill, my lovely Isabela. I'm so sorry."

"That was... she told me later she petitioned to adopt me but was forbidden unless she stepped down. And she thought she could help me more, help the village more, as an Elder," Merrill mumbles. "But... she put in a guest room and I started staying there a lot more. Like... maybe half of each year, in week spans."

Hawke nods. "She told me. She loved you, Merrill; you were her daughter, the way Varric is my Papa."

Merrill blushes a little. "I... I know. Mostly. I wish... I wish we had been as close as you are to him. But... I sort of have him and her, so... maybe it's kind of even?"

"You do," Varric agrees softly. "My ancestors might be grumbling in their cairns, but I have three elf kids. It's a thing that happened." He wrinkles his noise, then he glances at Hawke. "Feel free to date and fall in Clan-level love with a nice sturdy dwarf by the way. No pressure, just saying it's an option."

Hawke laughs. "Maybe I can get someone to polymorph me into a dwarf when it's time to have kids."

Merrill squeals and bounces happily, which distracts attention from Zevran's suddenly tense posture. Well, aside from Isabela, but she's probably not super excited about the idea either.

"Hawke," Aveline asks slowly. "Do... don't answer if you don't want to, but do... is there anything about... me- or anyone else, if they want you to answer- that you... that you need them to change? To be happy? Or just really wish they weren't... like they are."

She shakes her head, but the spell halts her speech. She blushes. "I wish Merrill wasn't so dependent on me, but that's mostly that I'm concerned I'll break her heart. I wish you felt comfortable talking to people more when you have problems. I wish, I know it's stupid, but like Zevran I wish Papa could experience the joy I get from sex. I wish Isabela wasn't so hurt and afraid, that she'd stay with me. But these aren't things you can fix, exactly. They're more... I wish my clan didn't have to hurt, I wish the world was kinder to you all."

_And that I would have sex with you,_ Seli suspects. _But then again, I wish that Zevran was the marrying type. And more family orientated. Hells, be honest with yourself. You wish you had someone with his body and charm had Lovan's... everything._

Aveline nods slowly. "I guess that's the same as me wishing you could really, truly and always believe that we love you because of how wonderful you are, not because we don't realize you have some flaw or weakness you think you have to hide. That you could trust us, all the way done, to not abandon you like your..." her mouth twists, her voice cutting out. "I can't call them your family. Interesting. Like your blood relatives did."

Hawke takes a deep breath, tears overflowing her eyes once more. "I--" she begins, but the spell cuts her off. "I know that you want that," she says, after a moment. "I know that you believe that. I know you.. I want to trust you. I want to, I do. I just can't, I don't know how to..." Another deep breath. "My waking mind, my conscious self, doesn't believe you're going to leave me," she offers.

"Childhood trauma leaves scars," Seli says gently. "Even after years of healthy living, of warm love and good family, they can still... twinge. Cause relapses. But each time, they get through them faster. Easier. Obviously, there are exceptions, but that's the hope anyway."

"We'll keep working on it," Varric says just as gently.

Hawke nods. "Don't leave me. That's all I can hope for. That you keep loving me and I keep accepting that love."

\---

The Zones expire and the next hour or so is spent with people having quiet conversations and impulsively hugging people. One highlight is Aveline, rather gingerly it must be admitted, giving both Zevran and Isabela a hug. Finally, most of the group drifts off to cook- or observe at least- leaving Zevran, Isabela and Varric to huddle up in the guest room to talk over the results of their looking into the late Missus Christwick.

Isabela sighs, putting on a smile almost by habit. "So, I bribed a clerk downtown to get me the records from Christwick's tariff payments. That's the sort of thing you can use to put together her business stuff, right?" She hands over a rolled sheaf, tied with a ribbon. "If we're looking for a conspiracy, I suppose that's where we start?"

"Paper trail, yeah," Varric says a little eagerly as he takes the bundle of paper. "I've been looking into the scene at large, getting a feel for who's moving and how fast. Got two quick starters- Bluestone Security and Fortune's Favored. Bluestone is a pretty old company, fairly large cash reserves and a seasoned head, so it's not entirely strange for them to have already starting moving on the news if they got a little lucky in hearing about it quickly. Most of their efforts are for stationary protection though- in Nyra and some of the protectorates."

He pauses a moment to clear his throat before continuing. "Favored is a conglomerate- ah, that means they're not really a business in and of themselves, but rather that they're... they're a company that buys parts of other companies. They provide funding and connections, sometimes manpower or expertise, and they get partial ownership- and thus partial control and profits- in exchange. They're somewhat old, maybe two, three decades, but the Board got bought out earlier this year and the new head is unknown."

"That seems... suspicious?" Zevran says hesitantly, unsure of how high end business works. He can run his own fine, but that's much simpler than what Varric is describing as he own the entire thing himself. Well, Merrill is listed as co-owner for everything but Voice... did he ever tell her that? Whoops.

"Eh. Yes, but not... deeply so. Sometimes rich people try to stay hidden for privacy or security reasons. But in this case... it's a clue. What'd you get?"

Zevran wrinkles his noise a bit. "Well, to be honest, the late Christwick was... boring. Worked some seventy-eighty hours a week, networked for much of the rest. Her son has two full time nannies and a full time tutor. She had very little interact with him from what I can tell. I didn't get much of a sense that she had much of a personal life. It's possible this was personal crime but... I didn't see any such indication nor motive."

Isabela nods. "Definitely sounds corporate, or political. What do we go after next, Varric?"

"Well, with Flirty's papers, I can start trying to match up accounts, follow where the money goes," Varric says slowly. "It'll take a while though, weeks at least, but it's really the only lead we-"

The loud, rapid knocking on the door causes him to pause. Sounds pretty urgent, though not demanding or aggressive exactly. Zevran starts to rise to get it, but Hawke is closer. There's a guard on the other side of the door, a private, and one that Hawke recognizes in a slightly distant sort of way. Jocain maybe? He'd worked with her in a 'guard the perimeter and keep rubberneckers out' sort of way once and had rather bashfully explained that he was a Coalsider like her (why does no-one recall she's not even from Nyra, ever?) and enlisted after how she'd saved the district during the Riots. Aveline had mentioned he's a good sort- earnest and honest, dedicated, if very, very green and perhaps not the best with a cudgel that ever wore the uniform.

"Ma'am! Thank Vangal you're home- there's been another murder and- and it was a noble and there's a lot of pressure to find a suspect," he blurts out.

Hawke grabs her staff. "Right, where do you need me?"

The guard winces. "I, uh, I'm actually on my lunch break," he mumbles, shifting around nervously. "I just... I saw you around earlier and knew you were interest in the case and... well, it's looking like they're going to charge the summoner, Black." He pales suddenly, blanching at something behind Hawke.

Which is, of course, Aveline, whom he recognizes despite her wearing cotton trousers and tunic. "Everything alr- Hawke, what's wrong?"

" **Are they**." Hawke's voice is stone cold. "Right, thanks. If anyone asks, I didn't hear from you." She turns, then, nodding to Aveline. "Light business, have to run."

Aveline's eyes flick from the guard to Hawke and back again. "Dismissed, private. Good work," she adds, getting a relieved sigh before he bolts. "...do... should... should I offer to help or did I just hear Merrill call for help in the kitchen?" she ask quietly. Behind the paladin, Zevran is leaning in the doorway to the guest bedroom with Isabela and Varric just out of sight but easily able to hear.

Hawke wets her lips, sighs. "I'm really no good at walking this line. I'd love your help, but I don't think I can compromise you that way. I'm sorry."

Aveline smiles warmly. "It's fine. Thank you for... I would, if I had to. But... I'm glad you're aware of what that would... do to me," she says quietly, eyes lowering. "I suspect you'll have plenty of help anyway," she adds louder, glancing over her shoulder. Zevran inclines his head slightly.

"Yes, well, first I have to find out what's going on." She runs a hand through her hair.

"Actually, the three of us might have a vague idea or two," Zevran offers. "Perhaps we can fill you in on your way over to the station?"

Aveline smiles and starts to leave, then stops. She looks at Hawke for a long moment, then strides up to her for a quick, hard kiss. Hawke wraps her arms around Aveline, kissing her back fiercely. When they part, she grins at her. "Alright, that's better."

Aveline grins back, a pleased- and slightly smug- gleam in her eye as she heads into the kitchen. "Let me know when I can help," she tosses back over her shoulder.

Moving to Hawke, Zevran comments, "Aveline can sashay... I would never have suspected." Thankfully, he keeps his voice very low, mindful of their recent talk. "You're so very good for her."

Hawke sighs wistfully, watching her depart. "Indeed... But duty calls."

"Even if you're rather hear booty beckon?" Zevran fires back with a wink. "Alright. So... this is what we've been able to figure out so far..."

\---

Twenty minutes later, Zevran and Isabela are heading off to Helene's for crime scene investigation, round two, while Hawke and Varric head into the guard station to see what's going on with Morrigan. Weirdly, Varric had hesitated a second or two before agreeing to back her up. Strange of him... Sgt. Prethin is on duty again and sighs as he spots Hawke coming in. And tenses when he sees who's with her. In fact... now that she thinks of it, most than half the guards in the station are giving Varric furtive looks.

" _Unlicenced prostitution?_ " A beat. " _With minors?_ " Oh. Damn.

A wave of cold air washes outward from Hawke, but she takes a deep breath, reigns it in before frost starts appearing. She heads right for Prethin, her smile warm and welcoming. "Good evening."

"Lady Sage," Prethin says neutrally. "Something I can help you with today? We're pretty busy, so..." The 'make it fast' goes unsaid. And to be fair, it is very busy from the look of things. Also... while he's clearly aware of the tension in the air, he isn't one of the people giving Varric side-eye.

"Yeah, I had some quick questions. I understand there's been some new developments in a case I'm concerned with?"

Prethin snorts. Loudly. "Developments is a word for it, sure," he says softly. "Rich old man with a title got turned into a horror show in the middle of his daughter's engagement party. Middle of the afternoon, two dozen guards on the property and over fifty guests." He looks around. "Been keep surprisingly quiet," he adds, giving her a meaningful look.

She smiles. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just need to know the man's name and the rough time of death."

The desk sergeant studies her for a moment. "Body was found an hour ago, time of death is still up in the air. Rough guess, couple of hours. Name... Lord Acturis," he says finally, still keeping his volume low. "Friend of yours, wasn't he? Funded your clinics," he adds, a note of sympathy creeping into his voice.

A look of surprise and pain flashes across her face. "Yes," she says softly. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I'm sorry to ask this, but can you do me one more favor? Then I'm out of your hair, promise."

"I can listen," he allows.

"It's just, I understand you have a suspect in custody, yes?" Hawke begins.

Prethin's face tightens a little. "Yeah. It's... the case is still being investigated, but we have a possible suspect," he allows carefully. "Charges are still being... confirmed as they pull in more evidence."

Hawke nods. "Right, of course. But seeing as how I was sent home after questioning and you have a suspect, is there any lingering suspicion that I'm a suspect at this time?"

His face clears and he shakes his head. "Ah. No. You might be called in as a witness, but you're very much not a suspect any more. Given the recent victim, there's no judge or magistrate in Nyra that would bother to even sit the case before dismissing it."

She smiles. "That's a relief. I've been hitting some trouble because of it, is there any chance I could get a note to that effect? Nothing legally binding, of course, just that I'm not a current suspect in any crime. It would help my efforts tremendously. You know how touchy some people can get."

"A note?" the desk sergeant repeats, a bit dumbfounded. _Never had a person come in for... a healer's note belike._ "Ah... well... I suppose I could... write a script to the effect that you're not a suspect as of this time and date?"

"Yeah, that's perfect, thank you so much." She grins at him. _Turns out I didn't need Varric after all. Sorry I made him uncomfortable dragging him all the way down here._

Five minutes later and Hawke has her note in hand and is- where is Varric? Ah, fuck, he's talking with a pair of guards- with that oh-so polite and respectful, not trying to cause trouble, no really, just trying to be on my way smile on his face that leaves his eyes tense and wary. The smile he wears when trying to talk their way past a very old dragon whose lair they accidentally wandered into. The smile he wore back when Hawke was younger and he had to talk with gangs trying to extort protection money from his businesses. The smile, she realizes belatedly, he used to wear when he had to talk to Aveline. Thankfully, she can't recall seeing him wear that smile around her for at least two years now.

The guards, an older male merikos varana in a corporal uniform and a younger elf female with sergeant tabs, have him socially pinned against a wall. He could easily slip by, but not without risking brushing against one of them, and Varric certainly know better than to do that in a guard station of all places. "-you've been moving some money around lately. Lots of pies you're poking your fingers into. Some might say a disturbing number of them in fact. Why I even heard yous were funding yourself a school. For younglings."

Varric's smile sharpens, just for an instant and Hawke can tell the dwarf has just planned at least three ways to kill the elf.

Hawke strides up to them fearlessly, already preparing a spell in her mind just in case, one that will obscure the room and allow them to escape unscathed. She wouldn't cast it, of course. She knows it would be futile, would undermine her whole purpose of being here, would make Varric's life that much worse. But some part of her needs to have it ready, needs to know she has power here beyond just smiles and begging for favors.

"Can I help you, guardsmen?" Her voice is syrupy-sweet, but like her Papa, her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. 4

"Corporal Vixs here is just... catching up on old times," Varric explains easily. "We go way back you see, he was part of the task force that was looking into a few shady rumors, oh, seven years ago was it?" The merikos varana growls, the sound almost inaudible.

"Vixs is the only one still on that task force actually, as they never got enough evidence to make any charges. Not that the lack stopped Vixs from busting into a financier's guild meeting and accusing me of running a pedophilic brothel. That certainly made the next few years a bit more challenging, having that hanging over my head." _Ironically, if he hadn't do that, closed all those opportunities, I might not have gone into the grey side of business nearly as deeply as I did. Funny how life works out._

"I know you were part of it," Vixs grinds out. "Just because you managed to bribe your way out, doesn't mean you're free forever. You'll slip up again eventually. And we'll be waiting for you to fall." The elf female nods firmly, though she looks noticeably less confident, angry or... she honestly looks pretty green- is Vixs her mentor or something?

"Good to hear our guard is so vigilant," says Hawke icily. "Now if you'll excuse me, my father and I have an appointment across town to get to. Light business, and all."

Vixs continues to glare for a moment but the other guard pulls on his arm until he budges out of the way. Neither say anything, though the sergeant looks a little ashamed. Well, abashed anyway. Awkward for sure, like she knows she was doing something stupid just then.

Varric just nods politely and heads for the door, not looking back. Once they're outside, he asks cheerfully, "get what you need? Notice you're holding something, that the case file or something?" Is he not going to... nope. Completely ignoring what just happened.

"Oh, I have plenty to work with." _Like proving Varric's innocence once and for all. And making it known that rumors about him will not be tolerated._ That'll keep me busy while Aveline handles this demon summoning case. "It's back to Aveline's next."

"I think she's still at your place. When we were leaving, I heard Merrill and Seli cajoling her into joining them for a girl's night-in," he remarks. "Which... may have been supposed to be a surprise for you, so... bluff if you wouldn't mind on that."

Hawke nods. "Of course. Still, she'll be relieved to get this," she says, holding up the scroll.

"What did you manage to get?" Varric asks curiously.

She grins. "A paladin."


	16. Interlude: This One Has Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helene has questions -- and Zevran has answers. (Explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Helene has the body of a child, and this chapter is explicit. It can be skipped without missing any important plot points.

Question Day, as Helene liked to consider their Metalladays, was the day each week Helene looked forward to the most. Each week, they saved up as many questions as they could; then, on Metalladay, in the afternoon, they made their way to Voice in the Dark and their standing room reservation, bringing along their sketchbook and satchel. They had started dressing up, too: since it was something of a holiday each week, it made sense to test out more daring fashion choices. This week, they were wearing pinstripe suspenders and a matching hat, something Madam Zevvy had suggested the week prior. It was an unusual choice; they don't like the way their breastband seems to be coming unwound as the suspenders somehow chafed it through the shirt, but the fashion statement might well be worth it.

They give the usual greetings to the whores in the lobby, treating each one to a small bow and a greeting. Judging by their words, the suspenders and hat seemed to be a good choice. They smile faintly as they head up the stairs, hoping that Madam Zevvy is not unduly delayed by his duties at the brothel. Dominique, a rather fetching merikos varana with short, fine reddish fur and intricately braided hair down to her waist, catches Helene on their way up to Zevran's office. "Oh hey sweetie," she says breezily. "The Madame's gonna be a liiiittle late, he's entertaining some hoity-toities from Skysong. You wanna wait in his office or..." She leans, tail slipping out from under her robe to part the front split and reveal strong, toned legs. "Interested in branching out a touch?" she finishes with a wink.

"This one will wait," Helene squeaks, their throat closing around the words as they take a step back.

Dominique laughs gently, eyes playful but kind. "That's fine too, sweetie. You want anything to eat sent up? Madame's been working all morning, so he should eat but he won't eat in front of you unless you have something to nibble on at least," she adds in a conspiratorial whisper.

Helene frowns faintly. _Friends are supposed to ensure that friends eat things; I have seen Madam Zevvy coax Hero zi'Hawke into eating more than once. So, if we are friends now, then I should accept._ "This one accepts your offer. Perhaps some scones would be appropriate?"

_Oh Ciren, sh- they are SO adorable! So formal and earnest!_ "Of course sweetie, I'll send up some scones with his lunch. And some tea and juice? Still good with grape?" Without really waiting, Dominique blows an air kiss and heads off. "Door's unlocked!" she tosses over her shoulder.

Helene heads into the room, taking a few moments to breathe deeply and get settled. By the time the scones and juice arrive, they're flipping through their sketchbook, reading through the lists of questions. _Some questions about that game Beinn Varric mentioned. Some about the workings of the Guard, how they're arranged into squads. Some about particular social interactions I encountered this week._

They flip through the book, pausing on an old image of Sharran, sleeping peacefully. A blue finger traces along a sketched cheek; they close their eyes, bearing through the ghost of old pain.

_Perhaps... perhaps it's finally time to ask the real questions I wanted to ask of Madam Zevvy._

Zevran slips into the office without a sound, the first hint he's there the closing of the door as he slumps against it. "Ravenous fiends, the lot of them," he mutters to himself in elven, eyes closed. He's wearing a silk robe, tightly belted, though they can see fuzzy slippers on his feet... and a blotches of lipstick marks on his face, neck forearms and the small triangle of skin at the collar of his robes.

The Samsaran gives an adorable squeak, starting as they spy Zevran. "Does Honored Madam Zevvy require assistance?" they fumble thorough.

Zevran jumps a little, eyes flying open to stare at Helene blankly for a moment. "Hel- oh. Right, it's Q&A day," he mutters, then shakes his head. "I am... fine. Just being a bit dramatic really. Birthday party for a flock of rich ladies. Very.. entitled." He takes a deep breath, then offers a lopsided smile. "How are you doing Helene?"

"This one is concerned about Madam Zevvy," they manage. They climb to their feet, giving a low bow, the sketchbook clutched to their chest in a sure sign of being uncomfortable.

Zevran chuckles softly, moving to rest a hand on Helene's upper arm for a moment. "I will be fine. A hour or two, some lunch, and some conversation with a dear friend is just what I need, I assure you, mon amie."

"Ah-- yes. This one... this one took the liberty of requesting your lunch be brought. And scones," they add, blushing faintly. "Is this acceptable?"

This does, in fact, turn out to be acceptable. As Madam Zevvy needs a moment or two to clean up, Helene does as they typically do and look through their sketchbook to give him privacy. But today... They peek, just a little. Maybe twice. Or three times. The third time, Zevran catches their eye and smiles; they blush, faintly, looking firmly back down to their sketchbook, hand twitching as though holding a pencil. _No, it would be inappropriate to draw... that._

_Even if this one really wants to remember what it looks like._

Lunch is eaten, Helene making polite conversation the whole time, not once mentioning anything sexually related. And yet... they're a little more formal than usual, a little more hesitant. A little more insistent on titles.

After ten minutes or so, Zevran sighs. Setting his lunch on the serving tray, then sets it aside. Rising, he kneels in front of Helene. "Mon amie, what troubles you? I assure you, you have not offended me," he adds, citing the most common reason for Helene to go super formal on him. And, nine out of ten times, they've not done anything to offend most people, much less him.

"This one-- this one was not--" They take a deep breath, then let it out, setting the sketchbook aside. "This one is nervous because.... this one... this one had an ulterior motive in mind for this meeting, and this one... is working up the courage to ask questions this one has had for some time."

Zevran tsks softly. "Helene, you know that I will not be offended by anything you ask," he says gently. "That is the entire purpose of our little talks, no? That you have a safe place to talk, to learn."

"This one is not... worried about your taking offense. This one..." They take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "My body is... not what I... You know this," they say, blushing faintly.

"Your shell was not made properly for your soul, yes," he agrees slowly. "Are... you struggling with that again?" A beat. "Still." A flicker of something in his eyes. "Did someone hurt you?" he asks very softly.

"Yes, but -- not recently," they reply, voice soft. "This one is... small. And underdeveloped."

Zevran shrugs. "You have the body of... a kender. Or a merikos gnome, a short one. But blue." He offers a smile. "I know, it is not the same, but... it's just who you are. You should not feel ashamed of being you, of having had the courage and selflessness to give of yourself in order to serve."

Helene nods, slow and unsure. "This one wonders.... Is it... Is there any chance of someone being... Not being repulsed by my body? Being... Attracted to this form? Or, at least, willing to engage with it?"

_Not being- oh Helene...._ "Sweet, genius Helene... I will not deny that your form is perhaps not ideal for such things. But you are not without beauty." He smiles faintly, the hand on their arm lifting to skim silky black hair. "Your hair is first, when I see you. Glossy black locks, smooth and flowing. Your eyes are next. Soft white, always filled with a burning need to know, to discover wonders and horrors alike, all to serve not just your Goddess but the world. Your skin, a gentle blue, and smooth, soft. Your hands. Not just their look, but their use. Always moving, writing, showing, reaching and seeking. But more than you body, there is you. Your laugh, your real laugh, the one with the hint of snicker, of that delightfully dry wit that you're always afraid to share. The way your eyes shine when you find a new thing to learn, a new set of answers. The way you wrinkle your nose when you run into a logical fallacy- a phrase I did not understand before you."

His hand had drifted as he spoke, lightly touching or coming close to touching each part of them as he talks. Even at the end, he touched their throat at laugh, their forehead at wit. Finally, he rests a single fingertip on the fabric of their shirt, just above their breastbone. It's light, barely enough to feel through the clothing. "And I promise you, that if you wish it, I will show you that your body can feel pleasure, give pleasure. If you wish it. And if you wish another, that can be done as well. I know for sure that I have at least three men and two females that would be amendable with laying with you in good faith. You are more admired, more liked, here than I think you realize."

"This one..." they whisper, eyes brimming with emotion withheld. "This one... wishes." They lower their gaze to the floor immediately, cheeks burning a deeper shade of aqua, fearing the response.

The finger comes up, under their chin. Once their face is turned upwards a little, he slowly leans in to kiss Helene. _Soft, slow, chaste for now. I know they and Sharran did some sexual activities, but this is still probably fairly new, and almost scary. Especially with someone new._

Helene makes a small, soft noise against him, kissing him gently. It's a contented sort of noise, a sound of yearning long delayed. Zevran pulls away, a low, husky laugh coming from between his lips. Still only a few inches from their face, he stares into their eyes. "That was nice, no?"

"Yes," they whisper, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before looking away. "This on-- I had missed touching of that sort."

"I must admit, I have not gone for more than a week without sex of some kind since I my first kiss," Zevran says with a laugh. "You have been without for... two years now?"

"Please to clarify what counts as sex," they say, blushing a little.

Zevran smiles faintly, then kisses them for a moment. "That is fair. I should have said 'sex with another.' Masturbation is enjoyable, yes, but it can only satisfy the flesh. The intimacy that comes with sharing pleasure with another is beyond that."

"This one was asking for clarification because... by a strict definition, I may never have had sex."

"Well... there is no completely accepted definition," Zevran says with a slight grimace. "My own definition would say that... there are a few criteria, to qualify something as sex. To start, everyone must have given informed consent or it's rape instead. Enthusiastic consent is preferred, mind you. For another, sex requires at least two partners. After that, you need one of the following. If any partner achieves orgasm because of another partner's direct actions. If any of those involved are penetrated by a cock, flesh or otherwise, or tongue somewhere other than the mouth. Fingers are... borderline. Or... other appendages, I suppose." He shrugs. "But there are many, may different opinions on the matter. And my own shifts and adapts as I grow and learn and just feel differently, sometimes day to day."

Helene nods, slowly. "Then-- this one has had sex, at least once."

Zevran nods slowly. "Would you... be comfortable telling me about it?" He pauses a moment, then reaches up to brush their cheek. "Perhaps together, on the cot? Or we could move to a room? If you wish," he repeats.

"The cot is acceptable," they say, taking his hand to tug him over to it. Once situated, they curl up beside him, closing their eyes. "This one and the one known as Sharran were... intimate, on a few occasions. But, there were rules in place to protect Sharran. This one did not undress fully. Sharran only rarely undressed fully, and only once allowed direct genital contact. She.. closed her eyes, and pretended her body was as she wished, while this one performed acts upon her. It... was uncomfortable for all involved."

_Oh you poor souls..._ "That... was... that was sex, but... not good sex," he says gently. "You should have been made a delight, not something to... tolerate." He slips an around around them, fingers stroking their upper arm slowly. "If and when you wish it, I can show you how it can be," Zevran offers softly.

"A... delight." There's an odd tone in their voice, almost bitter. Disgust? "This one, this body, is not... delightful. This one would not want you to..." They pause, struggling to find words.

"Why not? Because your shell does not age? I know," Zevran says simply. "And if the soul within was not yours, was not wise and learned and mature, I would not touch you in that way. But you are. And that makes all the difference, Helene. Surely I don't have to tell you about that saying about books and their covers?"

"This one appears to be a child. This shell _is_ a child's shell. There are... differences. Sharran was elven, but she did not see an elven body under this one's clothing, she saw a child's. It... disgusted her to.. touch the body of a little girl."

"That was her. I am... " Zevran hesitates a moment to find the right words. "I have been with a great many people, of a wide array of size, shape, race and age. I am accustomed to... differences. I have not see your shell in full, but I suspect you will not look all that dissimilar to that of a young gnome or kender. Or this very nice aasimar lad, whose mother was kender, not human, that I once- thrice- had the pleasure of knowing."

"This body is not... There are differences between children and adults. Elves are known to be hairless and flat-chested, as children are, and yet, there are subtle signs of ripening that this one... does not have. Can never have. This one..." They look down. "This one cannot handle seeing you look at me that way."

_Helene..._ Zevran shifts a little, tilting their head up again so he can kiss his friend, soft and sweet. He pulls back, then rests his forehead against theirs. "I..." Will this help? Will it... "I mentioned that I started young, yes? I was thirteen when I had sex for the first time. Granted, I matured earlier than the norm, but..." _I can't. Telling them that their shell would not be the youngest I have... No. Telling them what I was made to do before would only make them think they would be doing the same or some such foolery._ "We can take it slow, if you want."

They picture Sharran's face, twisted in an expression of disgust. They know, intellectually, that Sharran was possessed at the time; that the reaction to being kissed was to push them away and call them 'little girl' was the demon's reaction. But it was still Sharran's face. And... if they're being honest... it's not that far from the expression Sharran made seeing them naked the first time, before the rule about nudity was put into place.

_If Zevran looked at me like that..._ The question sessions would be over, and perhaps the friendship with Varric as well. It would hurt them, badly. _But... I would survive. I am stronger than I was. Madam Zevran taught me that. About loss, and how to push through it. About grieving, and not letting it consume you. Even if my love didn't return as his did, he understood how I felt seeing her corpse. I can use what he taught me, even if it's to recover from losing him._ Helene nods, slowly, pulling back from Zevran. They stand, placing their sketchbook carefully down on the cot. "This one... will undress."

"Yanking off the bandage? So forward!" he asks gently, then winks at them. "Most people prefer some foreplay first," he teases them.

Helene looks at him, blushing faintly, fidgeting a little, but not speaking. They know he's joking. That's how Zevran is. But... Helene can't bring themselves to joke back. _This could be the last time we're together as friends._

Zevran sighs a little. "Helene. It'll be okay," he promises them. "Even if it turns out you're some strange aberration that doesn't find me attractive, I'll still be your friend. Okay?" Wait, not find _him_ attractive? A beat, then, "would it help if I went first?"

They shake their head. "This one has no question about finding Madam Zevvy attractive," they admit. "This one is nervous that... If this is... too much for Madam Zevvy, please inform this one immediately, and this one will leave." So saying, they move to unhook their suspenders, fingers clumsy on the hooks.

"Wait," Zevran says softy, leaning forward. "May I?" he asks, reaching out a hand.

Helene searches his face for a moment before nodding. _This is Madam Zevvy. He knows what he's doing._

"Thank you," Zevran says warmly, eyes on theirs. Sliding off the cot, he comes to kneel next to Helene. Again he kisses them, this time a little more... actively. Still chaste, but with more interest, more passion. As he does so, his nimble fingers detach the suspenders before ghosting towards the buttons on their shirt.

Again, Helene returns the kiss, closing their eyes as the suspenders unhook. _I will have to look, eventually, but..._

Zevran flicks his tongue across their lips, asking silently for permission as he continues to disrobe Helene. He keeps his touches light, teasing rather than pleasing, trying to stoke their passion. Keep their mind off their doubts and fears. "We can stop if you wish... and tell me... if you want me to do... or not do... something," he whispers between kisses.

"I--" they begin, whimpering softly. "I want... I need to be sure. I need to know you will see me and not.."

"I will see you, see my friend," he promises. _And if I do not do so right away, you will never notice my failure._ He continues to strip them, taking his time, making sure to caress and tantalize. "Tell me what feels good," he whispers. He grazes his teeth lightly over their jaw as his fingers stroke the soft skin of her lower back. "Focus on what you're feeling. Help me learn you."

_What... feels good?_ They swallow, focusing on the sensations in their body, trying to -- for once -- not ignore their body but live in it, let it touch them. "That," they whisper, as his fingers trail up their spine. "That feels good."

"Oh... how about this then," he croons, one hand hooking the waistband of their trousers and boxers in order to allow the other to cup Helene's admittedly flat bum. As he does that, he runs his tongue along the curve of their ear. _Flat but no more than a skinny elf or kender_ , he notes absently. _Even some human men._

"Ah!" They say, clearly startled. "This-- this feels-- the hand feels nice."

"Not the ear?" he asks, moving his focus to kiss their temple. Zevran does, however, continue to mold and stroke their bum.

"I-- I am not, ah, accustomed to being licked," they confess. "Is, is this... alright?"

Zevran bites back a half dozen comments and jokes he could make to reply, "do you like it? Was it... just strange or did it feel bad?"

"Strange. I am not-- I am not certain I liked it." They frown, thinking back a moment. _It was damp. No, I'm not at all certain I liked it._

"Alright. How about this?" he asks before sucking lightly on their ear, then nibbling very gently. As he does so, he reaches up to nudge their shirt off their shoulders.

Helene swallows, eyes still closed, feeling the nibbling. "Better," they say, gently. _An unusual feeling. It-- ah! Definitely is unusual. Oh, my shirt!_ They open their eyes, pulling back a little, watching his face.

Zevran chuckles. "Liked that did, you?" he asks, looking pleased with himself. He shifts his focus then, trailing kisses and gentle nips down their neck towards their breastbone. He pulls the shirt completely with one hand while he continues to knead at her with the other.

_I should ask him to leave the breastband_ , they think, but they don't speak. _No. He needs to know what it looks like. What this body looks like. What... I look like._ So instead, summoning all the bravery they can manage, they raise both hands behind them, reaching for the knot that keeps their breastband in place.

And gets smacked, lightly, on the hand. Zevran pulls back, a not very serious frown on his face. "Tsk tsk Helene. This is my gift to unwrap," he whispers. That said, he winks and darts in for a kiss.

Helene pulls back, frowning at him. "Are you... reconsidering?" they ask, studying him for the answer. "Or merely prefer to undress this one yourself?"

Zevran raises an eyebrow. "I did say I wanted to unwrap my gift myself, did I not?" A pause. "You are the gift," he clarifies.

"This one was concerned that... that you do not wish the breastband removed," they admit, lowering their gaze.

"I just hadn't gotten to it," Zevran assures them. "I am trying to make this enjoyable, not just a chore for you to struggle through. However..." he reaches behind them, untying the breast band. Once it's loose, he flicks it to the side and gives their body a pointed look. His expression never changes- banked hunger, light humor and warmth. He tugs her close with the hand on their bum, then slowly brings his face closer to their chest, angling it upwards so he maintains eye contract.

They watch him carefully, looking for any sign of shadow, knowing what he'll see: their chest is not just flat, but lacks even the faint swelling that many call 'flat-chested'. The lack of curves is already apparent as well: not just the fat deposits many humans have, but also a narrow pelvis, unsuitable for childbearing, not yet fully grown. Never fully grown. When they see no sign of repulsion, their shoulders relax a hair, and they swallow, keeping eye contact despite the discomfort.

Seeing them relax, he winks then focuses on their chest. Moving even closer, he flicks his tongue across one of their small, dark blue nipples.

Their eyes widen, and they break eye contact. "Ah! That feels good," they admit, hands curling slightly.

"Just wait," Zevran purrs, a half-laugh in his voice as he places a hand on each of her their hips. And then he wraps his lips around the nipple and sucks. They let out a soft, high moan -- one that points out how hard they worked to develop a lower, more gender-neutral voice, as it's a high, girlish sound. Zevran chuckles, the sound vibrating across their skin. His hands curve around to cup their bum again, making sure to slip beneath both layers of clothing. After a moment, he applies a little teeth, first on the edges of their areola, then on the nipple itself. They reach forward, then, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, as if to hang on for dear life. Judging by the inarticulate sounds they make, they quite enjoy this particular treatment.

"This--" They cough, unused to their voice being that high and squeaky. "This one will," they correct, lower.

"Good." That done, Zevran latches onto their right nipple and starts sucking and nibbling. He starts at about the same level as before, but slowly builds in intensity. No intention of getting to the point of drawing blood or anything but... As he does this, he reaches down to start unbuckle the straps for Helene's shoes.

It's a surprisingly long while before they call out, "A little less," their throat constricting as their hands grip his shoulders. It seems their nipples aren't as sensitive as many women's are, which makes some sense given their unusual body structure. Zevran scales back as commanded, swirling his tongue around the nipple to soothe it. Finishing with the shoes, he tosses them after the rest of the discarded clothing. He returns to stroking their lower back and bum for a bit, making sure Helene is nice and... floaty... before unzipping their pants.

It takes them a solid moment to notice the unzipping, letting him slide the trousers partway down their legs before they tense their hands on his shoulders with a small, feminine whimper. Zevran stops instantly, using one hand to hold them in place while the other comes back up to caress their back. His also drifts over to the other nipple, whispering, "shh, it's okay, we can pause a moment."

"It's alright. I'm alright." They take a deep breath, letting it out. "I'm alright."

"My dear Helene," he purrs up at her, eyes lidded, "you are _far_ more than 'alright."

"Don't," they beg. "Not until you see." _I can't bear to get my hopes up._

"Very well, mon sage plaisir," Zevran replies softly. _Mon sage plaisir? Where did... hmmm._ He presses a kiss to their chest, right in the center, then trails his way down to their stomach. As he does so, he hooks their boxes and slips them down, taking their trousers along with. Still not looking, he murmurs, "step out?"

Helene takes a nervous step back, watching him. Waiting. This part, they can't bear to look down at. Not only is it a child's body, it's a child's _vagina_ , a female child's physical form. Hairless, smooth, underdeveloped, and _female_.

Zevran looks then, eyes skimming over Helene's lower half, not really lingering anywhere in particular. "You have knobby knees," he comments after a moment, voice amused. "Any gnome in your heritage?" He pauses. "Is that even possible for a samsaran?"

"No," they say, quietly. "Due to our reincarnation cycles, every Samsaran is pureblooded. Merikos live only once."

"Huh. Interesting," Zevran comments, flashing a smile up at Helene. That said, he reaches for their hips to pull the oracle closer again. "Would you like to continue?" he asks gently.

They tug just a little back, away from his hands. "Would you?" Their eyes search his face, desperate, looking for answers in a text they struggle to read at the best of times.

Zevran frowns for just a second, then his eyes widen and he winces. "Yes. I'm sorry Helene, I forgot you need the words spoken plainly to be sure. I do wish to continue. I want you to feel good, to feel the pleasure flesh can offer. I want you to enjoy your body as best you can, even if it's not the shell you would wish for. I want you to be... content and more than content."

"And it doesn't.. bother you?" they ask, slowly. "Only, I mean, if it does, I do not... lust to the same extent Sharran did. I will not suffer if we stop."

"It..." Zevran takes a moment, then shrugs. "It does not excite me overly much, but it does not repel me either," he offers baldly. "I do wish to continue."

They let out a long breath, shoulder slumping in clear relief. "Thank you," they whisper. "This one will-- No," they say, recalling some of the conversations. "I will not be in your debt. I will appreciate your gift." They open their eyes again, looking at Zevran for confirmation. "Correct?"

Zevran beams at them. "Very correct, mon sage plaisir," he says warmly. "Shall we continue then?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

They nod. "Yes. This one-- I would like to continue."

Zevran gives Helene a curious look. "Is that habit or do you honestly feel more comfortable with 'this one over the word 'I'?"

"Habit, primarily. Also... when speaking of... my body, or my current incarnation as opposed to the other incarnations I have been or will be, I tend to use 'this one' as well. This specific one, separate from myself."

"I can see the logic of that," Zevran says after a moment. "But we're getting off... topic," he says, deftly shifting so the pop of the 'p' causing his lips to brush a nipple. Looking up at their face, he asks, "do you want me to avoid touching... anywhere or should I just please you?"

"I..." They bite their lower lip, then shake their head. "I do not often look at myself. But I have not encountered touching that was not.. acceptable."

"Okay," Zevran says gently. "Remember, tell if I do something you do or don't like." He resumes lavishing attention on their nipples while he shifts one hand to cup their bum. With the other, he starts to stroke their right upper thigh.

"It..." they begin, reaching for words. "Was nice a little rougher."

Zevran chuckles. "Seems to be going around," he comments dryly. He does, however, start kneading their flesh a little harder, a little more firmer. He swaps nipples again, then shifts his hand to run a finger along the cleft of their behind.

They start again, swallowing hard. "Yes," they breathe.

_If they enjoy it... well, males and females both have asses, so that would be something that's not overly bound by gender._ Moving slowly, to give Helene time to both adjust and protest, he continues to explore their bum, eventually pressing lightly against the hole.

They let out a soft whimper. "Is that-- is that allowed?"

"With your permission," he replies simply. "It's certainly legal." A pause, then, because he suspects it might help, "Hawke and Merrill both partake, though Merrill more than Hawke. I am unsure about the details of samasaran anatomy, but most races can enjoy it. It's a matter of personal taste for the most part."

_zi'Hawke? I suppose she must have sex sometimes,_ reasons Helene, chewing their lower lip. "Then-- then, I would like to try."

Zevran nods, then mutters a long string of stilted draconic while flicking his finger lightly against Helene's anus. The grammar is horrible- and, amazingly, the sage is unfamiliar with the spell- but it's not hard to figure out it's some kind of... purifying or cleaning spell? Why would- oh. Ah, that's handy. Much longer than the neater, more difficult Prestidigitation spell- and probably useful only for cleaning a very small area, with no other functions- but very handy for a Madame to know.

He does try to make good use of the pause, catching a nipple with his front teeth and biting down slightly harder than previously. Judging by their whimper, they rather enjoyed the bite, as they clutch at his shirt with both hands. Reaching with his free hand, he feels around under the cot for a moment. _Where is... ah, got it._ He pulls out a small tube of slightly amber-tinted oil- it's massage oil, but it can serve as lubricant as well. Just a little wasteful, as it's more expensive, but such is life. "You do like your sex with a bit of spice," he comments, voice absent of any kind of disapproval. And then, just before they'd be about to reply, he bites down again.

"Wha--" they squeak, blushing. Panting, they swallow, stammering out, "Wh-what is sp-spice in this c-context?"

"Pain," Zevran explains. "It's also called 'liking it rough,' 'pain play,' 'S&M play,' and 'tasting the lightning.' I prefer S&M- sorry, sadism and masochism- for lectures and explanations, but pain play for casual use. But that's just my personal preference." As he talks, he dips the tip of his finger into the oil.

They swallow. "This one does not usually enjoy pain!" they protest.

"Pain is... not as uniform a thing as most people think it," Zevran explains. "It's... well, there's a reason I called it spice. Very, very few people would eat a handful of chili powder, but toss it in a bowl of stew and they love it. A dash or two- or dozen dashes- of pain during sex can.... highlight the pleasure." Going slow, he prods at their anus, working the oil in.

They yelp a moment later, startled into contracting the opening closed. "This seems, ah, paradoxical," they protest.

"As so much about mortals is," Zevran agree, pulling his finger back a little to apply more oil. "Try and relax," he adds softly, stretching up to kiss them on the lips. "It's strange, but tightening up the muscles there makes it worse." _Well, at the start anyway._

"This one will-- I will try. This is all very strange." They take a deep breath, trying to relax.

"Do you want to stop and do something else?" Zevran asks gently. "We can work our way up to that.

Helene pauses, then nods. "I think... maybe less adventurous is better, for today." _Assuming there will be another day._

"Then another time," he says firmly, kissing them again. "Have you tried elven kissing yet?"

"I am unfamiliar with the terminology," they say, slowly. "Kissing without.. meat involved?"

"Ah, no," Zevran says with a faint smile. "Kissing with... describing it does it little justice. May I demonstrate?" he requests. _That would explain why they did not respond when I kissed them earlier. I would have thought Sharron would have... well._

"Yes," they say, looking up at him with... is that adoration? Huh.

"You humble me," he murmurs softly, kissing their lips softly. Mouth still close to theirs, he whispers, "let your lips part a little." Once Helene complies, he slips the tip of his tongue into their mouth to flick against their tongue.

They start a little, pulling back only to ask, "Do I-- what do I do with mine? Please," they add, worried about seeming rude or over-eager.

"You can start with just mimicking or mirroring what I do," Zerran suggests. "Be careful not to cut your tongue on your partner's teeth, particularly if they're a more meat-inclined race. And don't stick it too deep into their mouths- similar to brushing your teeth, you don't want to make them gag."

Helene nods. "Alright. I will." Barely have they finished speaking before they press their lips to Zevran's eagerly.

Zevran chuckles softly but eagerly allows the kiss to resume. _Fond of kissing, check._ Cupping their bottom, he lifts them up so he can back up and sit on the cot.

They start a little, but then push their tongue into his mouth, timidly mimicking his motions as they get the hang of it. _You can trust Madam Zevvy. You can always trust him._

Once on the cot, Zevran lays back so Helene is straddling him across his abdomen. "Rock your hips against me," he murmurs before returning to kissing and kneading their bum. They obey orders, pleasantly surprised to find his sapling growing upright much as Sharran's had. _He's not lying,_ they realize with some giddy relief, redoubling their efforts with their tongue.

Zevran's right hand slips up to pinch and roll a nipple as they continue kissing. The other slowly works its way down to rub the bottom of Helene's slit, just teasing the edges to help move things along. He has to curl his back a little to make everything... reach, but thankfully he's not overly tall and much of his height is in his legs so it mostly works out.

Helene's hands come to hover over Zevran's body, but they pause, and they pull back long enough to gasp out, "May I touch you?"

"You may," Zevran says, tone pleased. "You may touch me with any part of yourself, anywhere you wish on my body. Just be careful on the sensitive spots, if you please." He pecks them on the lips again. "And thank you for asking."

Helene nods, then lowers her hands, caressing Zevran's chest, almost petting him. Zevran increases the speed of his own strokes, trying to help them build up towards completion. _Probably good to avoid going too far in experimentation this first time, but mon sage amie desperately needs to peak. Years! Years! And, like as not, nothing very good before then either. Gods in all the heavens, they've lived for decades and more as adults without getting off_. He instantly double his focus and dedication.

Before long, they tense, throwing back their head in a strangely vulnerable, desperate cry. Their thighs tense against him, desperately spasming; then, almost as quickly as it began, it's over, and they collapse onto his chest, slick with sweat and panting for air. Zevran holds them close, gently kissing along their neck as he strokes their back with both hands. "Let it happen," he whispers. "Relax and let it happen. Just let your body thrum and release."

They give a small whimper, nestling their head against his chest. "This was..." they whisper, awestruck.

_Don't be too smug. Don't be too smug._ "You're very welcome," Zevran says smugly. _Too smug!_ "I'm glad you touched the sky."

"The sky?" they wonder, despite themselves.

"Climax," he explains briefly.

They shake their head, staying atop him. "Thank you." they whisper. "I cannot express the depths of my feelings, my gratitude."

Pulling them upwards, Zevran kisses them soft and slow. "No debts... but I am pleased that you are pleased. And also proud that you came to me for this. That you trusted me- and yourself- to ask for this."

Helene nods. "I was... I was hoping..." they trail off, shaking their head. "I was hoping for this," they finish. "I was hoping... maybe we could do this... some other times as well."

"I think I would like that," Zevran says softly, reaching for a blanket to pull over them. His office is fairly warm, but still. "Did you have... a particular manner you wanted to go about this?" _You are a creature of habit and pattern._

"This one has.. only limited experience with dating," Helene admits. "Perhaps... in place of question sessions, we could... go on dates?"

_Dating?_ "May I... ask what sort of relationship you are seeking?" he asks, careful to keep his voice light.

"...Please enumerate the kinds available?" asks Helene, hesitantly.

_Oooh boy_. "Well... unfortunately, there are thousands of ways to answer that sort of question. Maybe a better way to ask you what you want, is to ask what you want out of this? Are you solely seeking pleasure of the flesh and friendship? Do you... wish..." He exhales. "What kind of needs are you hoping to fulfil?"

"This one..." they begin slowly, frowning in deep concentration. "This one enjoys the relationship that is present. This one would... prefer to repeat this experience, potentially once or twice in a month. This one... Is sometimes... lonely. Less so recently, with Madam Zevvy and Beinn Varric, but this one has found their previous circle of friends... lacking emotionally ever since this one began speaking with Madam Zevvy."

"Well, first off, you do remember you can visit more often than just on Metalladays," Zevran reminds them. "But so you want to keep what we have, but build more onto it. Sex, but also just increase the degree of... personal intimacy between us. Is that correct?"

At this, Helene hesitates, sitting up and lifting their head off Zevran's chest. "This one..." they begin, looking askance. "You may have noticed, but this one is not... good at emotional connection or... relationships."

"Good is relative. I am happy with what we have made, though I will not object to bettering it," Zevran says simply.

"You... are?" Helene blinks. "I am not as... warm as Honored Merrill, or as exciting as zi'Hawke."

Zevran stares at them. "So?"

"Is that not what... what you want in a partner?" they ask, carefully.

"Just Merrill and Hawke, you're naked," he says absently. "It's... those are things I like, yes, but not all the things I like. I enjoy many, many things. And none of my lovers have every quality that I enjoy."

"And I have... qualities you enjoy? Personal qualities, above and beyond my shell?" they ask, quietly.

"You do," Zevran assures them. "I touched on a few of them, did I not? Your laugh and humor. Your delightful curiosity and earnestness. I adore making you blush," he adds with a wink.

"My.. laugh," they echo, voice soft with pure wonder. "My curiosity is... attractive? Not offensive or misplaced or invasive?"

Zevran shakes his head. "It... can be, sometimes," he allows. "But you're pretty good- and getting better- at noticing when you come on too strong or if the timing is bad. I can't recall any time in particular that you offended me with it. It's refreshing. There is much in the world that I simply... know or assume, that your questions make me see in full, sometimes for the first time, sometimes for the first time in a long time."

Now they blush, a deep cerulean flooding their cheeks. "Then... yes. Increased emotional connection is desired."

Zevran chuckles, leaning up to kiss them. Then again, on the nose, then forehead. "See. Adorable when you blush. Not quite as... hmmm... wickedly satisfying as making Lawful blush, but more endearing." He kisses them again. "Okay. Do you have a label you prefer? I am comfortable with lover or boyfriend on my side, but what would you like me to call you in regards to our relationship?"

"Uh. This one is... unsure of the options for... a person such as myself. Lover, perhaps?"

"Lover is fine to me. Significant other is also common. Or... there's... hmmm. Most other names are more... advanced," Zevran admits.

"What are the rules for a lover relationship, please?"

"Well... that varies from couple to couple- or for groupings," Zevran explains. "For myself, the biggest... rule works, I suppose is that none of my lovers can expect exclusivity. I rather suspect you realized that of course."

"Yes. This one would never, ever wish to take you from Hero zi'Hawke's side," they say, almost before they can think about it.

"Nor would she wish to take me from your side," Zevran says gently. "Do you have any rules or preferences?"

They shake their head. "As long as Honored Zevran sees me truly, this one has no concerns."

Zevran frowns a little. "Is there truly nothing you want your lover to do for you? No... obligation or service I might give you?"

"As this one said earlier, I would prefer to have sex on a regular basis, once or twice in a month at most. I would like to continue seeing you in Metalladays. And... perhaps... I will come more frequently, as you have invited. This is enough."

Zevran studies them for a long moment, then kisses them soundly. "Very well. If you wish for more often- sex or visits, you need simply ask. There might be times I cannot, but on the whole, I will likely say yes. Our Questions Days can absolutely continue. Also... if you want to... experiment with things, other than what we have done, you can ask for that as well. I would like, unless you object, to see how you like some of the more basic toys. Something smaller than my finger for instance, could perhaps help you grow accustomed to anal play."

Helene nods. "When shall I return for that lesson?"

Zevran is silent a moment as he stares at them, then coughs. "Ah, well, would you like to come- would you like to separate Question Day from your booty calls?"

"Yes," they decide after a moment. "It is neater."

_And you like things like that- neat, labeled and orderly._ Zevran smiles at them warmly. "Perhaps.... hmmm. Perhaps you could come over the day before Questions Day, spend the night, and then have Questions?" Zevran shrugs. "Every other week or by appointment."

"Agreed," says Helene. _Someday, when we're ready, maybe I could move my lodgings to Voice. But not right away. There is a minimum relationship duration, I am certain._

"Do.... I have gotten the impression you are a rather private person," Zevran says with a grin. "So I feel I should ask what kind of... boundaries you have in regards to displays of affection. And in regards to sharing."

"What boundaries are applicable in regards to sharing?" they ask, curious.

"Well, there's outright sharing of sex- having other partners involved," he begins.

"No!" Helene seems startled by that suggestion, eyes widening. "This one does not mind if Zevran has other lovers but to ask another to accept this one's body seems..." They struggle for words for a moment.

"I... Hawke would admittedly not be interested, I think," he says with a wince. "But... if you were interested, I think Merrill would be. Just putting the idea out there, you don't have to decide right now, either way. And if you're not interested in her, then I know a few of my workers here would be happy to join us. Dominque for instance. Again, merely consider it."

"This one finds your information... difficult to believe," they say, softly.

"Self-doubt is an insidious thing," Zevran says soberly. "That can wait, forever and a day if you wish. There are other... degrees of sharing. Other aspects of sharing. Displays of affection for instance."

"This one finds displays of affection acceptable, as long as permission is requested before touching," Helene decides.

"On a per touch basis, a per... type of touch... per person?"

"Per incident, if possible. Or series of related touches."

"Alright. How about information?" Zevran asks. "How much- or little- of what we do and are can I share? And with who? Whom?" He corrects himself with a grin. _Something about Helene makes me want to watch my grammar a little. Which reminds me, need to follow up on that idea I had earlier... when we're done with this._

"Information can be shared," Helene says, with a firm nod. "As long as it is accurate."

"I should have guessed," Zevran says with a laugh. "Hmmm. Do you have any questions about boundaries? Or requests?"

"What boundaries have been established with other lovers?"

"Well... for instance, ma'bela does not wish for any sort of... implications that were are, in fact, a couple at all. Hawke forbides sex at her father's- or over sexuality in front of him. Though to be fair, that's more his rule than hers. Merrill has... hmm. Very few rules really. Stay in contact often, I suppose. Oh, she strongly dislikes being tickled during sex."

"This one does not mind implications of coupling. This one does not have a father. This one has never been tickled during sex," Helene confirms.

"Ah, to clarify, not that we couple, but that we are a couple. She... is very skittish about commitment," Zevran says almost wistfully. "We can try the tickling thing later... among other things. I have a few ideas..."

Helene nods. "I.. am eager to find out what you plan." Their voice sounds wistful, and satisfied.

"I am curious... what are you thoughts on.... costumes?" Zevran asks with a slight purr in his voice.

"They serve many useful functions. Why?"

Zeran leans up a little, lips a bare hair's width from their own."You as the prim and proper teacher with a lot to learn about... fun and me as the young student, eager to show his favorite teacher a thing or two himself," he whispers softly, eyes never blinking.

"Ah! That sounds like-- a very... this is where the erotic comes from the breaking of rules? The, ah, naughtiness portion?" they ask, flushing blue.

Zevran laughs softly. "Naughty indeed," he purrs, running his hands down their back to cup their rear.

"Th-this one is unsure if-- breaking rules is-- challenging for this one."

"But you wouldn't be breaking rules," Zevran explains. "It would be a scene. Like actors in a play. That's what makes sex games moral. Just... just like how Hawke and Isabela weren't actually prisoners or- or slaves when they were, ah, doing that scene we scryed on."

Helene nods, slowly. "This would be a... different set of rules?"

"Correct. Sex scenes are... very different," Zevran agrees. "And we can go over them at least next week, before we do this again, but... I think perhaps we could both use a shower."

"Yes," they say rapidly. "This one would like to be clean."


	17. The Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke strikes a bargain.

When they arrive back home, Beka greets them. And very pointedly blocks Varric from entering the house. No growling, just getting in the way, with an almost apologetic air. It doesn't take long for them to realize that Hawke is not so forbidden from entering, and for good reason- when Hawke reaches the living room, Aveline is in the center of the room, on the workbench from Merrill's craft room. She's also naked, from the look of things, though there's a towel across her hips and she's face down. Merrill is painting her nails while Seli is wringing out some very, ah, satisfied moans and gasps with a back massage. She's very quiet about it- something Hawke is long familiar with- but equally intense.

_Woah._ "Hey, ladies," says Hawke cheerfully. _I didn't think Aveline would be up for group sex so soon, but from the sound of it that's where this is going rapidly._

"Oh! Hello Hawke!" Merrill chirps happily. "We didn't think you'd be back for hours yet so we decided to have a girl's night."

Seli leans in to work on a spot and- "Ah!" Giving a pleased nod at the loud pop and gasp, Seli glances over at Hawke. "It occurs to me that even if you don't like the pampering, you might be well served from regular massage. I can't even imagine how Aveline could move, much less fight or work with how tense her back and neck was."

"Practice," Hawke laughs. "I come bearing gifts. Though, mostly for Aveline."

Aveline mumbles something into the pillow, getting a giggle from Merrill- and a chuckle from Seli. It's borderline, but just edges over into chuckle. "She might need a moment," Seli says as she steps back and grabs a towel to wipe her hands. After a moment, she clears her throat. "Merrill?" she adds quietly, nodding at the door.

"Yes? Oh, right, sorry Aveline," the elf says with a wince as the pair go to leave.

_Hu-uh. So, not going that direction. Unless I ruined it. No, probably not, if she's being body-shy._ Hawke moves to have a seat, waiting for Aveline to get dressed.

Aveline slowly raises her head. "What... Hawke?" she says, startled, and begins to sit up before realizing she's basically naked. "What- where-?" Ah, she must have been almost falling asleep. Yeah, definitely not heading towards group sex. Interesting thing to know about Aveline though- sex doesn't really make her sleepy, though it does calm her down and make her cuddly. Massages evidently trigger sleep though, based on the confused yawn she's giving right now.

"Hey, beautiful," she says, with a pleased smirk. "I brought you a present."

"Mmm, I like your presents," she replies lazily, then stills a moment before looking around carefully. "Where did...?"

"They gave us a minute," she laughs. "You can have one of those, too, but let me tell you what I've done first."

Aveline relaxes a little. _I was... really out of it and this isn't even really... but they keep right to the spirit and letter of their promises. Bless them both._ Leaning a little on her side- in no small part to try and please Hawke a little with a show, wanting that tiny hint of confidence being looked at in that way by her amata- Aveline grins at Hawke. "What did you do then?"

Hawke hands over the scroll. "I got help. Specifically, from you. There's no good way for me to imply the guard aren't doing their jobs correctly, or put pressure on them to keep things above board, but you can and should be doing exactly that -- and you can, now that it's not a conflict of interest."

Aveline stills. _'But you can and should be doing exactly that.' I... gods, I should have been. I should have been doing my duty, not indulging in self-pity. Why did I do that last night? Why am I doing this? What did getting drunk, wallowing in shame and-_ She plucks the scroll from Hawke's hand and skims it over. "Good work Hawke. I'll get dressed and head to the station right away," she says briskly, getting to her feet.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be _right_ this second," she protests, getting to her feet as well. _Wait, what just happened, I thought she'd be proud of me? I went to Clan and got help, isn't that-- isn't that what she wanted?_ "Don't you want to hear why I needed your help?" she adds.

"I-" Aveline pauses a moment, one hand holding the towel in place around her hips. "What do you mean? You... you already said why. Because I'm not doing my job, the guard aren't doing theirs. I'll fix it, I promise."

"Wait, what? No. This smells like politics, is why. They're hell-bent on charging Black, and I know she's innocent. She was with me the whole night. If they had anything they'd have charged her earlier, but I am worried they're getting pressure from above and there's no-one I trust more than you to fix that." Hawke talks quickly, worried she may have offended Aveline. _I am such an idiot._

Aveline nods curtly and starts to move again. Then pauses, brow furrowing as she looks at Hawke. "...openness," she mutters. "Are... are you... I'm feeling ashamed and weak, because if I had just gone to work instead of wallowing, this might not have happened. And you wouldn't have had to deal with me being... like I was," she adds, jaw clenching and her gaze dropping to the floor.

Hawke looks stricken, as if she's been slapped. "Gods, Aveline, I didn't mean -- This was already starting before you took some time off. I'm actually pleased you did take some time for yourself. You rarely do, after all."

"I take days off all the time to be with you," the paladin says weakly.

Hawke frowns. "Am I there at these times? Because I usually plan around your shifts, so that's barely any time at all." _Given that most of the time, our dates are done before or after a shift... I figure there's only once or twice a month were Aveline would have to be off work to do whatever it is we have planed. Tops._

Aveline adopts a guilty look, her free arm coming up to cross her stomach. "...I, uh, I... I prefer to stay busy so... if you're busy, I usually just... work. Or head down to the training academy and help," she mumbles, neck and ears turning red along with her cheeks. "It sounds worse when I say it out loud," she protests.

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Is this how you feel when I don't sleep?"

Aveline opens her mouth and lets it hang there for a long moment. "...yeah, probably," she admits awkwardly. "Umm. I... do make sure I get enough sleep, unless things get rushed at work but that's a maybe once a month thing, tops. And I make sure to eat regularly," she offers, trying to reassure Hawke.

"Sure, of course. But you're not taking care of your emotional or social needs, the same way I often neglect my physical ones."

_Don't want emotional needs,_ Aveline thinks sullenly. _Astea, I sound like a toddler._ "You're right," she sighs. "I just... I don't do well with nothing to do." She shifts again, double checking her towel is in place. "I have you, Beka, work and... Sometimes Merrill, but she's been rather busy of late so..." She shrugs a shoulder.

"So you should enjoy your spa night and get to work tomorrow. The new victim was only found today, I doubt they'll do much to her tonight."

Aveline bows her head a moment, trying to process her emotions. "...I'm afraid of... disappointing you," she confesses. "You pulled of a legal magic trick with this," she gestures at the note on the table. "I don't want to... waste your efforts. I want to prove you can trust me. To myself, not you." _I know you trust me, for some bizarre reason, even after my blunder... yesterday? Was that just..?_

Hawke reaches for her hand. "If it will help you feel better, then by all means. But know that I trust you. That I believe in you. That I have no doubt you can do this. When you offered to help, my first thought was, oh good, Aveline will fix it. The next was to be ashamed of myself for wanting to put you in a compromising position. When I realized I could get you out of it, I came right here to get you."

Aveline smiles, eyes a little wet as she takes Hawke's hand with her empty one. "Thank you amata. It does help to hear the words sometimes." She takes a deep breath. "Join us? I... I have to admit I'd feel a little more comfortable if you were here," she confesses in a low voice. "I like them both but I don't know Seli as well I shou- no, no wallowing. I don't knew her very well yet and Merrill can... be forgetful about boundary lines. That's one of the biggest stumbling blocks we've run into, to be honest. On my end at least. They promised not to... push for sex, of any kind but... it would be nice to have you here." _I trust you to look after me, even if I can't look after myself._

Hawke reaches up to caress her lover's cheek. "All you had to do was ask. I'll always be here when you need me."

Aveline smiles shyly, pressing a kiss to Hawke's hand. "Do you want to try...?" she asks, tapping the table behind her. "Or would you prefer to...are my nails pink?"

"Your nails are, I believe, coral," says Hawke, dryly, with a hint of a smirk on her lips.

"Why?" the paladin demands, staring at them.

"Merrill?" asks Hawke, holding back a snort of laughter.

"Tricksy wench," Aveline says with a poorly hidden fond note in her voice. "Anyway. Massage or masseuse was what I was about to ask. That was... much better than I expected it to be, it might be something we can both benefit from."

"I love a good massage," admits Hawke. "I'd be honored to join your girls' night."

Aveline smiles playfully, then leans in to kiss her lightly "Then strip down and I'll go get Seli so she can give a lesson." Pulling back, she saunters off. "We can have your test in a month."

\---

Shortly before ten that night, Aveline heads in for her shift, leaving Hawke to met up with the Investigation Team to check in. Thankfully, as a grown adult, Hawke has a house so they don't need to find some random place of dubious privacy to met up. "Okay, so here's what we have so far with this newest," Varric begins. "Helene was able to confirm the identity, time of death and... manner. It's a clear match. Isabela, what did you get in regards to eyewitnesses and the like?"

Isabela sighs. "Nobody saw anything until the body appeared. Tucked behind the punch bowl. There was a suspicious person caught on the grounds earlier that day; they were wearing a cloak, but the hands looked human, short build. No sign of forced entry, so I figure it's gotta be some magic thing right?"

"Caught-caught or just spotted?" Varric asks.

"Sorry, spotted."

"Guess that would be too easy," he allows. "Alright, so that's pretty solid evidence that the mastermind is still at large. Zevran?"

"I was able to get the papers and records you needed without issue," the ex-assassin says with a shrug. "The rest of my day was unfruitful."

"Not every horse is a winner." Varric leans back a little. "So. Guess what company already has a small share in Christwick's company? And is, even now, readying themselves to increase their shares? Fortune's Favored might not get a flat out controlling majority but it's looking close. At the least, they'll have a major say in affairs, enough so that they might be able to force a merger anyway."

Isabela nods. "So we need to dig up who's behind that one, then, right?"

"Need to figure out how Favored benefits from Lord Acturis dying as well," Varric says with a nod. "Think the two of you-" he breaks off, glancing at Hawke. "You're in all the way now, right? We're not ducking possible truthings?"

Hawke nods. "Yeah, this really sounds like hero work now."

"Alright, good to have you on board," Varric says with a warm smile. "The three of us- if they're up for it," he adds, glancing at Zevran and Isabela, "will break into Favored's offices tonight and see what we can dig up. You're not really the sneak type but having a look out- and possibly back-up if we scare up a sceleratis- would be lovely."

"Hear hear," Zevran murmurs.

"Fair enough," she agrees.

\---

Thankfully, the break in goes smoothly, with nothing worse than a guard dog that Silence manages to cow with ease. In fact... "That was some really terrible security," Zevran remarks, frowning. "And they're a protective escort company?"

"Not just that, but yeah," Varric agrees after they head back to his place. Merrill and Seli are passed out at home, so best to let them have the house. "Curiouser and curiouser. Anyone notice anything else of note?"

"Dust," says Isabela, staring at the row of impressive-looking ledgers behind the front desk, on a shelf in plain view. "Those are fake."

Hawke frowns, glancing around. "I can't see any sign of magic. Even if the place isn't warded, shouldn't there be _some_ magic in use?"

"You'd think, yeah," Varric says with a frown. "You mean there was no magic? At all? I mean, you said there wasn't an alarm scheme so I was figuring traps and good locks..."

"Not a single trap and the door locks were good but the rest were show," Zevran agrees. "It's clearly a front but... where's the real one then?" A pause. "Helene?"

"No good. We have to have some connection to the place or a person in it."

"Will the company name not work?" Zevran asks.

"Probably not. It might, if the name had enough weight to it but if it's a con or a front, it's no better than an alias," Varric agrees. "So none of this paperwork is worth a damn. Probably should have left it but I felt like tweaking some noses." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "Hawke, any idea what Lord Acturis made his coin on?"

"Uh, adventuring, I think. Backing exploration parties and reaping a share of the treasure."

"Just quest stuff or did he outfit mercs as well? Say guard duty for caravans?" Varric asks, leaning forward.

"Uh, I'm not sure. I think so, yeah. He said something about diversifying, getting less risky income for his old age."

"I need to look those papers for Christwick's company over again- if he was investing into her, then we have a clear link and motive," Varric says with a grin. "I can work on that- you three want to start nosing about, see if you can find anyone that works for Fortune's Favored and work your way up the chain until you find brains?"

"Yeah, I can do that," confirms Isabela.

"Alright, I think we're good then. I have some books to hit, you lot get some sleep and then hit the streets in the morning," Varric says, clapping his hands lightly.

\---

Over the next few days, all of them chase down leads in their own ways. Aveline's way is mostly to ensure the guard are following proper procedure and not going for the easy answer; Zevran's way lies in seduction, and Isabela's in breaking and entry. Hawke's way mostly involves blunt questioning and knowledge of the power structures of Coalside which, admittedly, isn't the most useful tactic.

So it's a bit surprising when Hawke's method is the first one to bear fruit.

Hawke stumbles into Varric's office downtown looking wrecked. Her robes are singed, showing the armor through in places; she's got blood crusting onto her nose, and she looks exhausted, leaning on her staff. Worst yet, under one arm is tucked a brown paper bag, just large enough to hold a bottle.

Varric is coming at her with a wand before she can say a word, a cure spell rushing through her. "Report," he says quickly, pulling her to a seat.

"I found him. You're going to want this. So am I." She holds out the bag as she sits.

Varric glances it, then moves it to the table as he checks her over. Half a minute later, when he's satisfied she's not hurt, he finally opens it. He was expecting whiskey, likely the good stuff: well-aged, sipping whiskey, something to savor and cleanse the bad taste out of their mouths. But despite knowing his preferences well, that's not what his daughter has brought him.

The bottle in the bag is large, and she probably paid way too much for it. It's an imported drink from hotter, dryer lands: an alcohol called "tequila", made from some kind of desert plant that won't grow well in Nyra's climate. It has a reputation not for being particularly flavorful, but instead for having a rather high potency. Rumors abound about the effects something like this would have on someone with Marian's physiology. Hell, it might even be dangerous for someone like Varric to drink neat, from what he's heard.

Varric studies it for a moment, then moves to get out a bottle of ginger tonic to blend it with. And some simple syrup for Hawke. He pours them both a full tumbler, adds in the mix-ins, then drains half of his. He shudders a little at the burn and taste, then nods. "Alright. Sip and talk."

Hawke gives her head a single shake, then, in a show of bravado he can be proud of until his death, lifts her glass and drains a third of it in big, thick swallows. _This should make my brain shut off for a little while (this is my fault I should have known I should have seen I should have stopped this two people are dead and it's my fault stupid so stupid) so I can focus. So I can fix the problem. So I can do the hero thing (how can I tell Varric I should have known this is my fault)._

"Is... okay, let's start with- is anyone Clan dead?" Varric asks, voice brutally even.

"No," she says, her voice distant. "Nor seriously injured, nor arrested, nor kidnapped."

Noticeably untensing, Varric takes a much smaller sip of his tequila. "Anything else can be dealt with," he promises her. "Start from the beginning, lay it out."

Hawke, on the other hand, throws back another long gulp before she begins. _This is all my fault._ "I worked my way up to one of the higher-ups at Fortune's Favored, a senior manager that was basically running the operations on behalf of the owner." Deep breath. "He was a devil. Just straight up, a devil, disguised as a human using a spell."

"Well fuck. Guess we picked right," Varric says with a sharp exhale. "Describe it? Wait, no, did it get away or did you send it back to the the Hells? Wait, no, fuck, sorry, are you okay? With... sudden sceleratis?"

"Yeah," she whispers, not sounding okay in the least. She takes another long gulp of her drink, and continues again, louder. "Yeah. I kill-- I sent it back to the Hells. And then I searched its papers until I found its boss."

"...someone we know, isn't it?" Varric says softly, eyes closing for a moment. "...'zi'Smith? Your mentor? Someone at Voice or your clinics? I was noticing that this seemed... not directed at you, but almost like it was designed to make sure it splashed on us."

She shakes her head. "Varric, I'm so sorry," she whispers. "This is all my fault. I should have stopped this ages ago, I should have known, I should have been paying attention..."

"Hawke, what's going on?" Varric says, reaching across to take her hand. "Just say, so we can deal with it together, okay?"

Hawke squeezes his hand tightly. She takes a deep breath, looking at her glass but choosing to leave it alone, to stop leaning on it so heavily. She takes another deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she exhales, before she look up at him, and whispers the two words she's been fighting against since she found that paper, since she recognized that handwriting:

"It's Bartrand."

It's to his later shame, but Varric's first thought to that is: _Who? Oh, right my brother (well, by blood anyway). What about him? Wait. He's..._ "Bartrand... Tethras?" he asks slowly, as if to confirm that there's not another Bartrand he should know. "Oh."

She nods, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. If I had paid more attention, kept more informed, I could have stopped this before people died..."

Varric blinks a few times. "Bartrand was smart enough to figure out how to summon a devil? The fuck?" He winces a little. "I... fuck, what am I saying? I- wait, Hawke, how is this your fault? He's my relative, not yours. Shit, do you blame me for not noticing Carver was the type to stab you?"

"You _did_ notice. You were trying to get me away from my family for months before I left. I should have returned the favor, kept an eye on yours."

"Didn't stop him from stabbing you though, did I?" Varric counters. "Hawke, I'm a grown adult, if anyone is to blame for not noti-" He tilts his head, a perplexed look on his face. "The fuck are we arguing about? _Bartrand_ is a grown adult, it's his own sodding fault for summoning a gods be damned devil, not us."

Hawke nods, swallowing. "I'll do my best, I promise you that. If I can take him alive, I will. There's two dead, but if I can argue it down to life imprisonment--"

"Hawke," Varric cuts her off. "If- _if_ you can capture him without risking yourself, risking him escaping, risking him hurting anyone else, then fine. I'd like to ask him what the fuck he was thinking at least. But..." He sighs, a look of... shame in his eyes. "Hawke, he hasn't been...we haven't been... he's a relative, but he hasn't been family since... gods, decades before you were born. I didn't know the difference until you, but he's not family. And I will not risk my family to spare him." _I'm going to need a few hours (and some drinks), later, when it's quiet, to think this (obsess) over. How did this happen without me noticing? What else am I missing? Did I ignore signs because it was (my idiot brother) Bartrand?_

Hawke nods, her shoulders slumping. "Alright. I'm really sorry, Varric. I.. I know how bad it feels to find out family isn't who or what you thought they were. That they're not..." She takes a deep breath. "That there's only blood shared between you anymore."

"I... yeah," he says slowly. "I don't think it's really... I... Probably tomorrow night, it'll really... be real to me. I always knew he was a little shit, sure, but he just... Bartrand could never accept that maybe he shouldn't have gone into business. He was always the better of the two of us at a forge, but he wanted to... to own things, not make them. And he just doesn't have the instincts for it. He could never get the pattern, the rhythm of things. When to consolidate, when to expand. When a deal is solid, when the gain is worth the risk. He should never have left the caves," he murmurs.

Hawke sets her drink down, moving to her Papa and kneeling to embrace him tightly. "I'm sorry," she says again, resting her head on his shoulder.

Varric starts a little at the touch, then leans into her. "...or maybe it's hitting a little now," he admits in a strained voice. He takes a deep breath. _Can't do this now, have to focus._ "What kind of proof did you find? Enough to get Lawful in on this or not yet?"

"I recognized the handwriting. I was going to take him in myself, bring him to Aveline for a truthing. Oh -- you should have her meet me at the Clearbrook station, uh, the east side one. That'll be the easiest to bring him to."

Varric frowns. "Hawke, if he's summoning devils... he's just a paper-pusher, sure, but you shouldn't go in alone on this. Especially given you've already been in a fight today."

She nods. "I'll stop by the house, get Silence to guard my back. If things go badly, I'll send her for backup and turtle." A wan smile. "It's not like he's magic -- he had to have used a ritual, so he can't surprise me with more help than I see scouting."

"And if he has a devil on hand, like the manager? No, grab Merrill or Zevran, Isabela, someone. Better yet, we can send one of them to the guard station and- shit, I shouldn't be there," Varric realizes belatedly. _Hawke is right about that much anyway. It's already sticky having Hawke bring the drosshead in. Me doing it? Bad idea._ "Right, grab someone else, I'll brave the guard station and get things ready." _And send them after you._

She sighs. "Alright. I'll drop by Voice, if I know Isabela they'll both be there this time of day."

"Thank you," Varric says with a relieved smile. "You might not need the backup, but I'll feel a lot better knowing you have it."

\---

When Zevran and Isabela _aren't_ at Voice, she debates turning back. Only, they've just gone out to eat, they should be back any minute. Seeing her face, Nox offers to run and find them, and she agrees, giving him the address to pass along.

In the meantime, she heads for the address herself: a nice home, clearly belonging to an upper-tier merchant, or a successful investor on his way into the noble class. _I'll get some intelligence while I wait._ It's simple to hop the back wall, disable the alarm, creep up to the back door. So confident is she, so sure she'll have help, she doesn't see the invisible watcher on the roof, doesn't notice him scuttering inside to warn his master.

What she does hear is Merrill's voice. She can't make out any words; it's a muffled cry of pain from within the house. _Zevran is right behind me; if this is a trap, I stall._ She kicks in the back door, forces her way inside, sprints down the hall. She barely takes in the furnishing, the opulent rug, the layout -- all she can focus on is that voice, that cry.

Shame about that focus- the place really is nice. A bit heavy on the brown and gold, but rather tasteful to be honest. Rather surprising for Bartrand's character- maybe he hired someone? Hawke notices the final room though- a stark cutout in an otherwise normal looking wall leading to a blackstone lined room lit by mounds of sullen embers in ugly iron braziers. A pure white stone altar with a gold cloth draped over it. Bartrand in emerald green silk brocade, a silver athame in his hand.

Merrill, terrified and crying, a line of blood at her neck where the blade is digging in.

"You just had to start poking around, didn't you?" the dwarf spits, causing Merrill to whimper as the athame digs in a little. "Everything was going fine and you ruined it!"

"Let her go." Her voice is quiet, level, but her hand is tight on her staff, her skin pale. "It's me you want. She has nothing to do with this." _Make me a deal, devil summoner. I'll take it. Merrill..._

Bartrand sneers at her. "Right, and have you turn me into a fucking icicle? How dumb do you think I am, you addled slut?" He takes a step back, turning his head just a little to glance behind him.

At the slowly swirling film of black... something that's covering the wall. "No, I won't be giving up my shield, thank you." His sneer grows to a smirk. "I think I'll be going now. You want this one," he jabs Merrill again, his eyes gleaming at the pained whimper she gives, "back, then you can ask your silly bitch of a goddess."

Without another word, he steps back, dragging Merrill along with him into the far wall. The black film shimmers slightly as if some kind of high tension fluid, then starts to vanish gradually from the edges inwards.

"No!" she screams, and lunges forward, racing for the entrance, her staff dropping from her hand as she runs, forgotten on the floor behind her. She leaps headfirst through the film, just in the nick of time, rolling as she comes to a halt on the other side.

And stops dead in her tracks.

At first she thinks she must be hallucinating. This can't be real. Because this place, this place she's now in, she's been there before. Minor details are different; first and foremost, the condition of the room, the age of the structure. This is no lost temple, hidden away in the underdark and forgotten. This is a living, well-maintained chamber in what she can only assume is a temple actively used for worship.

But the details of the room are just as she remembers. Behind her would be the archway, the runes she'd skipped translating overhead, the place where Merrill had stood and expressed her concern about the safety of proceeding further in. To her left was the wall with the mural: strange beings, alien things, drinking from a goblet, with red liquid pouring down their terrible mouths. On the right was the text, carved into the wall itself, a language she doesn't speak covering the surface. And dead ahead, the bone-white altar, where she'd found the only thing of value in the room.

The gem.

_Why... am I here? How did I get here? Did we travel in time?! Nevermind all that, where's Merrill, what does he want with her?!_

There was the sound of chittering, chattering, when she first dove through the portal. A second later, the sounds cut off as a dozen or so imps turn to stare at Hawke. More importantly, there are a pair of red-skinned, muscle bound bipedal monsters with bladed beards and oversized glaives with actual teeth worked into the edges moving to flank the unarmed Hawke. But most importantly...

Merrill is right ahead of her, slumped against the altar. The entire front of her soft yellow dress is drenched in blood, her skin pale. Her mouth is moving slightly, eyes pleading for Hawke to help her as blood steams from her neck.

"Huh. Didn't expect you to be this dumb. But here you are," Bartrand says with a rough laugh from his position behind the altar. "Shame about the elf though. Temple prevents any healing save infernal so... least you get to watch her die, that's something, right?"

Only one thing exists: Merrill's face, the blood down her shirt, her perfect, luscious lips quivering slightly. She rushes forward, barely even registering Bartrand's words, reaching for Merrill, knowing she doesn't have healing magic, she can't do anything about this, she left her staff behind, she has to do something, there's so much blood, maybe if she can get her hands on the wound she can hold back the blood...

She's barely aware of what's going on around her. The room is bone-cold, visibility dropping to nearly nothing thanks to the flurry of snow. Hail pelts them from above, ice making the terrain slippery underfoot. Thunder roars as lightning plays across the ceiling, threatening to strike. The 9 hells aren't known for their thunderous blizzards, and this would be a doozy of a storm even for Nyra. It only lasts for a handful of seconds though before the ice is suddenly and almost viciously quelled. Some of the imps managed to get to cover, but a least half of them are down. The two bearded devils are fine, nearly unhurt in fact. Bartrand is cursing ripely but still upright.

Merrill reaches up weakly to press a hand to Hawke's cheek, the skin tacky with warm blood. 'Hawke," she mouths silently, eyes welling up with tears.

"You could save her, you know," Bartrand says as the storm abates, his mood shifting abruptly. "If you can pay the price for it."

"Name it," she says, almost before he's done asking.

"Your soul for Merrill's life and freedom," Bartrand says just as quickly.

_My soul for her life._ "My soul is valuable," she says rapidly. "For that, you never touch her again, nor send anyone to influence her in any way."

Bartrand frowns, clearly trying to think it over. "Valuable, true, but you're in our power now. Unarmed and alone in the middle of the Hells. We'd break you eventually," he hedges. One of the imps chitters at him and he scowls.

"Yes, fine," he snaps at the imp, who gestures at the two mortals. Hawke can feel the wound under her hand writhe and seal, Merrill's back arching as she screams a hoarse whisper of pain. "There. That gives us a bit more time to hash this out. Now. Your soul, freely given in exchange for your wife's life, freedom and our promise we won't go after her, in personal or by agent. If she comes after us, we're allowed to defend ourselves as we see fit."

_Merrill,_ her heart whimpers. _My poor, sweet Merrill. Of course she'll come for me. Oh. They'll all come for me, won't they? Maybe they'll find a way to kill him._ "For-- for the last clause, I'll want to send a letter with her." _She's bound to be in shock now, she'll remember better if I give her a letter._ "To make sure she doesn't come after you."

Bartrand frowns, then his eyes light up. "No- but I'll send a copy of our contract to my dear brother."

"Acceptable," she says quietly. "Merrill needs to be sent back to Nyra, though. I won't have her held here."

"Heh. Nice catch," he says almost cheerfully. "Very while. Your soul, freely given in exchange for your wife's life, _the required transport to Nyra_ and our promise we won't go after her, in personal or by agent. If she comes after us, we're allowed to defend ourselves as we see fit." He glances down at Merrill curiously as the elf whimpers softly and tries to mouth something to Hawke. A plea... but is it to save her or herself?

"You know I can't," she whispers. "I'm sorry, my love." She looks up then, meeting Bartrand's eyes. "Agreed. Get it in writing and we'll get this over with."

Bartrand snaps his fingers and a pair of imps fly over with parchment and quill. He writes quickly, then sends an imp over with both items. "Just sign your name in full on the bottom line," he purrs. "And she goes home, safe and sound." A glance at the contract shows it exactly as they agreed, along with a series of terrible looking glyphs on the line for the devil- presumably its name.

She reads it carefully, thinking as fast as she can. _Bartrand signed the devil's name -- he's probably possessed. This all looks in order. This is... I'm really going to... I can't believe this is how it ends: enthralled for all eternity, when I could have been a Pavitra._ She takes a deep, steadying breath, reading the contract again. _Merrill's life. Merrill's soul, most likely, that was a ritual knife. Anything, for her._

Hawke signs the contract.

Hawke feels a tug on her heart as she writes, the ink a bright red, then a deep much deeper as she forms the last letter. A second later and the contract is plucked from her hands to be returned to Bartrand. The dwarf looks it over and laughs softly as he just studies it with a look of rapture.

The hand on the side of Hawke's face tightens a little, pulling her downwards. The pull is weak and easily ignored but Hawke can't deny Merrill anything- especially not now. The elf smiles weakly, lips tainted with a stain of blood. Forcing herself upwards, she kisses Hawke, gently, lovingly. When they finally part, Hawke is given a wavering smile.

"Tenachka was right, you _are_ a great kisser."

_Tenachka was..._

The blood in Hawke's veins freezes solid. Her eyes widen, her nostrils flare. _For nothing. It was all for nothing. I sold myself, I lost everything, for what, for nothing, for a joke, a cruel sick joke, I can't even (merrill) I sold myself for (Merrill) nothing all for nothing all for (Papa!) there's no point there was never any point my whole life was leading up to nothing this horrible empty feeling nothing (worthless) there's nothing I can do I signed I sold myself it's gone it's all gone Clan Nyra everything gone_

Giggling girlishly, 'Merrill' slips out of her arms. As she rises, her form shifts and flows into the slightly taller, winged sister of Tenachka. "Well, I think my favor is repaid, no?" she asks Bertrand lightly.

His own form doesn't change so much as suddenly become a rust-colored devil with ornate horns in the shape of a crown. He's covered in tightly wound scrolls, to which he adds Hawke's contract with a satisfied noise. "Oh yes indeed, my dear. That was _masterfully_ done, just masterful. Actually... would you care to trade the favor back? I'm going to be very busy for the next few days and it would be _terrible_ manners to leave my guest here alone and... untended."

The lilin pursues her lips as she studies Hawke thoughtfully, mulling the offer over. "The chance to play with an Illuminated Soul... a rare chance but that was a very hefty favor..."

Hawke takes half a step back, instinctively needing to get away from the Lilin, even just a little. _empty nothing nothing I am nothing there is nothing I can do nothing (worthless) I ruined it all over nothing (unworthy to be called Illuminated Soul) worthless empty nothing (play with?) disappointment ruined it all destroyed my clan over nothing (pay attention!) there's nothing I can do (she's going to rape you!)_ Hawke takes another half step back, dropping to her knees as the two devils bicker. The maelstrom dies down inside her, replaced with glorious purpose. She kneels, digging in her boot for the knife she'd been keeping there, raises it to her wrist.

"Stop her!" the phistophilus devil howls in sudden fear. One of the imps, still nearby after taking the contract, leaps on her and grabs her wrist. It's not nearly strong enough to stop her, just slow her down, particularly when she shifts targets to her neck. "Stop! What are you doing?" Why... why does he care? What is he afraid of happening if... if she presses down?

_Hope. A slim hope, but a hope._ "We have no agreement about my life," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Do you wish to strike one?"

The devil licks his lips, then quirks a smile. "That is... true," he admits. "But you are unarmed and alone in the middle of the Hells, remember? What exactly do you think you're going to accomplish? Your life is going to be suffering and sin- the sooner you accept that, the... smoother it will be."

"It can be." _Think, Hawke, what does he want, why does he care about your life? Why wouldn't he want your soul sooner? Because, because he thinks it can increase in value? He's a businessman, right? Or something. So what would...?_ "Or it could be a life of service and debauchery," she adds, slyly.

The lilin snickers softly. "Oh she's a clever one."

The contract devil hisses at her but quickly musters a disturbingly charming smile. "Alright... let's talk bargains. What do you have to offer in your position?"

_Nothing but my life, and I'm bluffing like mad._ "How about a wager. As they say in Nyra, double or nothing."

"You... you would _gamble_? With a devil, the devil that owns your very _soul_?" the phistophilus demands, sounding outraged- something that isn't helped by the lilin bursting into peals of laughter.

"Sure, why not?" she says, trying not to let her desperation show.

The devil stares at her for a long moment, then nods slowly. "I am... intrigued. What would you wager then?"

"We'll make a bet, I think. If I win, you let me go free and never return to the material plane. If you win, I do your bidding willingly for the rest of my natural life." _What do you have to wager on? Hawke, you have nothing to fall back on. There's no wager you can possibly rig that he won't notice you've rigged. How can you compete with an ancient devil? What do you bet on?_

"Your life for your soul?" he scoffs. "Please, that's a terrible bargain on my part. No, you'd need to offer more than that to make this worth while." Next to him, the lilin frowns, just slightly, as if surprised by that statement, or at least disagreeing with it a little.

"If it were just my life you'd have a point, but you and I both know it's more than that. Willing service? The taint from just offering that has to be noticeable, let alone going through with it." _There has to be something I know that he doesn't. The cliché opera example is the power of love, but devils aren't stupid. They know that sort of thing exists. So what? The better kisser? No, that's stupid._

"Perhaps... perhaps... but you really think you can win against _me_? An immortal devil with more than five thousand years of manipulating, deceiving and winning against mortals with fare more cunning and skill than yourself." He shakes his head mockingly. "What do you truly hope to gain here?"

"No," she says, "but since I'm here I may as well indulge a sexual fantasy of mine, right?" As long as she doesn't think too hard about what she's saying, the lies just keep coming out of her mouth, drawing on recent experience to make them all the more real. _What do you have to fall back on in this moment, Hawke? Not your power. Not your wealth. Not your influence or your goodness. What's left?_

_Oh. My Clan. That's what's left._ "Do you want to hear the terms of the wager?" she asks, focusing on the conversation again.

"A fantasy?" the lilin interrupts avidly, only to dodge away from a back-handed swipe. "Hey!"

"Be quiet or leave," the contract devil snaps. "I suppose it won't hurt to humor you," he says with as shrug.

_Perhaps a touch too casually? I can only hope._ "I'll name off members of my Clan, the inner circle: eight mortals, all told. You get to tempt them through any means, but you cannot coerce or lie to them, including illusions. If all of them turn you down, I go free. But if even one falls to temptation, I become your willing slave, forbidden to refuse any order you give." _Let him think he's got this in the bag. It's his livelihood, and he gets a bunch of chances and only need one success. But I get to name the individuals._

The lilin lets out a whistle, carefully taking another step back as she does so. "Ballsy for a mortal, isn't she Tentoplenumitaeziro?"

The contract devil- evidently Tentoplenumitaeziro- doesn't even bother to look at her this time, just studies Hawke carefully. "Interesting," he finally says after a good minute. "Tempting even. But... no. A devil, a Phistophilus devil no less, appearing just after you vanish? I wouldn't even get out a word of my pitch before they attacked. Or fled, for the weaker of them. I must insist on at least being able to hide what I am from them."

She frowns, pretending to think this over. _He's haggling -- that means he's buying what I'm selling. The only negotiation left is the price._ "I can allow for that. Perhaps you are allowed to represent yourself however you wish so long as you do not take the guise of a specific living mortal, but you must represent the deal fairly, and stick by the negotiated terms if the deal is accepted."

"I _always_ abide by the terms of my deals," Tentoplenumitaeziro growls. "But your other points are... workable. I will restrict myself only to the mortal forms I own by right- as I said, I've been doing this for a very long time and have constructed numerous appearances that suit me and my methods." He taps his chin thoughtfully, the nods. "So. You will select eight mortals that you know, members of your 'Clan' that I must tempt into agreeing to any deal of my choosing. If I succeed, even once, you will willingly and without resistance obey my every command until your death. If all eight resist me, then I void Contract 68,871. I can only take on mortal forms I own, cannot lie with word or magic otherwise and must offer true bargains. Is that acceptable?"

"I also said no coercion: you can't hurt, threaten, or kidnap them, you have to get them to accept honestly. We'll need to set a time limit, of course, or some maximum number of tries. I'll have the list of forms and cross-reference the contract number, just standard protocol where I'm from."

Tentoplenumitaeziro smiles faintly. "Can't blame a devil for trying," he says lightly. "Time limit.... well, eight temptations, eight years sounds fitting. Or eight tries each?"

"Eight years is far too long. Eight days, or eight tries. How do you define a try?"

"A new attempt. Each try is a different offer- negotiations over an offer do not count as separate attempts," the devil explains, starting to get into the haggle. "Eight days is far too short, not if you are hobbling me from using illusions to set scenes."

"From the first conversation, you have eight days to interact with each member," she says, with a nod. This is... well, compared to everything else since she got here, this is comfortable. Something she can do. "Accidentally speaking with another member of the list does not start a new clock, but you cannot make an offer to another member while you're working on one of them. So you have sixty-four active days, plus any downtime of not greater than eight days you take in between."

The devil considers that for a moment. _I can't make an offer but I can speak with them... which might allow me to do prep work for multiple targets at the expense of one._ "That time limit seems acceptable," he decides with a nod. "For your... selections. Eight members of your Clan, of your choosing... but I get three vetoes."

"One veto and you return me to Nyra while this is going on," she counters. _Haggle with me._

The devil simply raises an eyebrow and stares at her for a moment. When she doesn't continue, he rolls his eyes. "I think not. Having you in Nyra might, shall we say, poison the well? Unless. Two veteos and you're returned to Nyra- but... but you must take on the appearance, duties and persona of Bartrand, including fooling your Clan and anyone else to the best of your abilities."

_Absolutely not._ "Two vetoes and I get to be myself but you return me to Raplin's Oak instead."

"And three, four, days later you're in Nyra," Tentoplenumitaeziro says dryly. "Two veteos and you... will be confined to a private room here, in my temple, for the duration of the contest. No torture, no molestation without your consent, your biological needs met and... I will even provide a viewing mirror so you can supervise the contest." That... seemed easy.

_It's too easy. He offered up good treatment rather quickly. There's a trick here. But.. I'm not sure I'm getting a better offer than that. Being safe, being able to come home and be in good shape at the end of it... Plus, I can make him burn a veto pretty easily._ "Alright, but I can name any member of my Clan, even the outer layers."

"Hmmmm. Then our deal at current is... You will select eight members of your 'Clan' that I must tempt into agreeing to any deal of my choosing but I may veto any two of your choices and you cannot repeat a selection. I can only take on mortal forms I own, cannot lie with word or magic, cannot use base coercion, and must offer true bargains. I will have eight days to tempt each target, with the countdown starting with the first word spoken to them. However, I must do each target separately, with countdowns not starting if another is active, but neither can I make an offer to someone without their countdown active. I may take up to eight days between each temptation for prep work and attending to other matters. For the duration of the wager, you will be confined to a private room here, in my temple. You will not be tortured, there will be no molestation without your consent, your biological needs will be met and you will be provided a viewing mirror so you can supervise the contest. If I succeed in tempting even one of the targets you offer to me you will willingly and without resistance obey my every command until your death. If all eight resist me, then I void Contract 68,871. Is that acceptable?"

Right... outsiders don't need to breath. The only person she's used to talking that much without pause is--

"Assuming I can verify that that contract number is correct." She takes a deep breath. _This is it. Please, my loves, prove me right._

Tentoplenumitaeziro slip a scroll off of his vest- not the same place it'd put what she'd signed earlier, but now that she's looking, she can see the scrolls shifting positions every few seconds- and slowly approaches her once he's unfurled it so she can see. It looks right, her name is at the bottom and everything. Tilting it, she can see the right numbers on the back, along one side. "Satisfied?"

"With that. Don't think I didn't notice you removed two of the provisions for your loss condition: I go free, and you cannot return to the material plane."

"You are returned, unharmed, via portal, and I stay out of Nyra for the duration of your mortal existence," Tentoplenumitaeziro counters easily.

"Nyra or any of its protectorates," she counters, with a nod.

The devil considers this a moment, then finally nods. He runs through the deal again, ending with "If I succeed in tempting even one of the targets you offer to me you will willingly and without resistance obey my every command until your death, which you will not attempt to hasten and will in fact endeavor to delay unless I specifically and explicitly order otherwise. If all eight resist me, then I void Contract 68,871, you are returned through the portal, unharmed, to a safe place in Nyra, and I will not enter the environs of Nyra and it's official protectorates for the duration of your mortal life. Is that acceptable?" As he finishes, Tentoplenumitaeziro frowns slightly, as if something is vaguely bothering him.

She studies him for a moment, waiting to see if he's going to speak again. When he doesn't, she nods. "That is acceptable." _And I hope Papa forgives me if I screw this up, if I choose wrong._

Smiling, Tentoplenumitaeziro tucks away the old scroll, then quickly readies a new one. A moment later, Hawke is offered a new, much longer one. "Then sign on the bottom line... and let's test that lovely Clan of yours."

_Please, please, don't let me down. It's your turn to save me, my loves._ Once again, Hawke signs the contract. "Shall I begin naming names?" she asks, leaning on false bravado.

The contract is signed and tucked away with a flourish and delighted chuckle as he moves back around to the other side of the altar. And pauses as he spots the lilin slowly stroking herself as she studies Hawke. "Yes, let's get on with things," he grits out, ignoring the slut. "Name my targets."

"Your first target is Astea, my own beloved goddess," Hawke begins.

The devil gives her a flat glare, followed by a curt, cold, "Veto."

Hawke smirks. _One down._ "Alright. Maeve, daughter of Raplin."

"There are not-" The devil frowns.

"She left out the word 'mortal,'" the lilin singsongs with a giggle.

He hisses at her. "But they must be part of her Clan," he snaps. "Neither of those two are her family."

"I didn't say family. I said Clan. My Clan is bound with love. I love my goddess with all my heart, and as she is made of love, I know it is returned. I love Maeve, not so well as some of the inner Clan, but we did negotiate a broader definition. Anyone I love and who loves me in return is, in some sense, part of my Clan."

"Love," the devil spits with disdain. "Such a poorly defined word. Very well. What are the rest of the names?"

"Your first target is Maeve. Do you accept or veto?"

_Caught that... clever bitch indeed._ "Fine. Veto," he bites off each word.

_And that's two. Checkmate._ "Alright. Your first target is Aveline Vallen, Paladin of Vangal."

_Of course it is. Still, that's a good one to start with. Minimal chance of success, but I can spend a day on her, then use the next two weeks to prepare for the next, more promising target._ "And the others?" he asks absently, already running ideas on the ploys he'll use through his mind.

"You'll find out when you get done with her. Unless you want to negotiate another rule?"

_That... curse this little bitch. I was so caught up in my unexpected windfall that... this was sloppily done. Wait..._ He grins a little. "Actually... yes. We never established how long I can wait until we start. The time I have for each, yes, the time between, yes. But not before."

"True," says Hawke, thinking quickly. "But the longer you delay, the longer the chances I'll be rescued. After all, you haven't been circumspect in your actions -- I found you easily."

"...a valid point. Three names and I start right now, in whatever order I wish."

"Three more or three total?"

"Three more of course," he says smoothly.

"Two, and you start tomorrow."

"Agreed," he finally says. "Two more names and I will start at Nyrian sunrise tomorrow."

Hawke nods. "Wynne Langnne, and Anders of Summerhill."

_Start the old woman's countdown, then make plans for the others she'll likely pick. Summerhill... that could be... interesting,_ he decides. "Agreed." The devil barks something out, causing an imp to scurry forward. "This fleck will take you to your room. A slave will be along shortly to link the mirror so you can watch." He smiles coldly. "Unless you'd care for the slut to entertain you instead?" Tentoplenumitaeziro flicks his eyes towards the lilin, who simply arches an elegant eyebrow and smiles fetchingly.

"Depends if she's willing to bargain as well," says Hawke, her stomach turning.

"Absolutely not," Tentoplenumitaeziro snaps. "I will not have anything occur that might default our wager. If you wish to debauch yourself with her, enjoy, but I will not allow any deals of any kind."

"Then I see no reason to entertain her company," she says calmly.

"Then off with you," the devil says, crabby about how poorly he handled all of this.

Hawke nods. "Pleasure doing business with you." I hope. That said, she follows the minor devil to her cell. _Vangal, if you ever loved me, please help Aveline. Please help her resist the temptation before her. Don't let her fall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final arc of this series! It's a long one -- we have about 15 chapters to go -- but it's been a long time coming and I'm glad to finally be putting up these chapters.


	18. Temptations: Aveline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first name on Hawke's list: Aveline Vallen

When Hawke is able to see Aveline next, it's through the delivered mirror- which had been an ordeal in and of itself, as the installer had been human... or at least humanoid mortal whose skin was flayed off and their teeth and tongue removed. The worst part of it was that, as far as Hawke could tell, the person was still alive. The mirror activated without warning two hours after sunrise to show Aveline leaving the temple of Vangal. _Four fucking days later than expected_ , something that had been driving Hawke insane with worry. Aveline doesn't seem to be doing that great herself. Despite looking alert, her face is drawn and lined, her eyes red and her posture burdened.

Clearly, she hadn't found the answers she'd gone inside to beg for.

A man is walking out at the same time as her: a tall, muscular man, with skin the color of brass and hair like shimmering gold. An Oread, judging by the coloration; nobody look quite so rock-like as the terran-blooded humanoids. The man nods to Aveline, offering a gentle, "May His shield guard those in your care." _That should be just enough of a reminder to set her off guard -- the one she cares about protecting isn't here._

Aveline's eyes flick up to his, lingering on the tunic he's wearing- Vangal's colors- and the tiny shield made from a dragon scale he's wearing on a neck chain. "And may your Shield stand firm in His name," she replies automatically. "Bright's. I hope your morning is well?" She doesn't want to be here, chatting, that's obvious, but at the same time, it's not like she has anywhere else to be. And it would be... rude. As if she cares...

"It is. And yours, Captain?" he asks, with some semblance of concern in his voice. After all, she doesn't usually come here often.

Aveline snorts before she can help herself. "Clearly you haven't... Sorry Bright's. No, this... isn't a good morning." Or week. "Rough case," she adds, not wanting to get into it, tapping her guard tabard.

"If there's anything I can do, I'm willing to at least listen," he says, looking at her. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance?"

Aveline hesitates. _I... I really don't want to talk about it but.. do I really want to go back home? Sit in my house and worry? Think about how Hawke is-_ "Buy you some tea or something?" she finds herself saying.

"Of course."

\---

The man makes small talk as they head for the nearest tea shop, getting their drinks and moving to a table where they have at least some privacy. His body language is open, receptive, as he leans forward toward her. "So, how can I help?"

"I... Honestly, unless you're Vangal or his Herald, I don't think you can," Aveline says softly, staring at her tea.

He chuckles softly. "I cannot in good conscience claim to be either, but perhaps I'll think of something you overlooked. What's the trouble?"

"..." Aveline thinks a moment, sipping her tea as she debates on how to tell him. And how much to tell him. "The most important person in my life has gone missing. No. Was taken. And... and I can't find her."

He makes a passable impression of being shocked. "How can I help? I can assume you're searching -- is there anything you need?"

Aveline doesn't really notice the artifice in her pain, not consciously. "Me, my Clan, the guard- she's a- She's an important person to more than just me. We... have a few leads but... I don't know. Any good at locating people?" she asks with a wearly laugh.

"That's definitely help I can offer," he says, slowly. "Where have you tried?"

Aveline blinks a little. "Really? Ummm. Well.. scrying of course. Locate Person. Augury. Mundane detective work. Even scent hounds. Mabari."

He looks grim, giving a nod. "I might know a place to check. It's a bit difficult to get to. If she's there, I could arrange passage for you to get to her -- but I'll need payment, it's an expensive trip. I assume that's alright, given the importance?"

Hawke slams her palm into the side of her mirror. _This is going too well. Come on, Aveline, don't buy a pig in a sack. Look harder._

"A place to check?" Aveline asks, frowning suddenly. "I didn't even tell you who's missing, how would you know where to look?"

"You've tried all the mundane means," he says, with a nod. "I know a place kidnap victims sometimes end up, been there a few times. Seems like no matter how many adventurers hit the place, there's always some new victim a week later. If your girl's there, you'll want to get to her fast, before worse happens to her. If the being I think might have her has her, you don't have time to waste."

"What kind of-" Aveline pauses. "This isn't some dungeon with an inn or warehouse cover or even some sewer hole," she realizes. "Undercity? Deeper?" _Rock and stone can diffuse divination if there's enough of it... add in some wards and... possible. Worth trying anyway. Gods, any lead, no matter how thing, has to be better than staring at my kitchen wall for eight hours. Even if..._ She studies the Bright's, something about him just... off, but she can't put her finger on it. _Too on edge maybe?_

"Extraplanar," he admits. "A private space, owned by a pretty nasty guy. I might be a match for him, but he's got servants and other help that would tip things over the edge against me. Sometimes the best a Vangalite can do is protect the victims at hand."

"I can get a very powerful group together," Aveline assures him. _Something about this is..._ "Two healers, strikers and a squad or two of support to boot." She gives him a stern look. "Why did you get help about this already? If you had asked around at the temple, this could have been taken care of ages ago."

"Oh, they know about this place. But if you've got a team, get them ready. At the very least we can extract who's there." He nods, getting to his feet. "I'll see if your girl's there, and talk to the guy who can arrange passage. What's the description?"

_They know about this place? And leave it intact?_ "Merikos elf, female, mid twenties, short dark hair, scar on her stomach and just to the left of her breastbone," she replies absently. "Why hasn't the church acted yet? Where, exactly, is this place? Who runs it?"

"I've heard they're still in the planning stage. But, let me see if she's there," he says, with a dark chuckle. "Might be you don't have to worry about any of this and can get back to your quest. A pleasant day, Bright's Vallen." With that, he turns to leave.

\---

The bones had yet to suggest a Weal course of action; they had tried and tried, but there was nothing that indicated that they would _find_ Hawke. Helene had tried yesterday to contact Andraste, with Zevran looking on anxiously. The Herald of Adoration had appeared in Helene's mirror, which would have been a wondrous moment, a triumph of their skill with scrying. Except that the Herald had been unable to say where Hawke was, which distressed Zevran even further.

It wasn't enough. Helene wasn't doing enough. Hawke needed help and Helene wasn't providing enough. Desperate, they had told Zevran to gather whoever is available at Varric's home the next day just after sunrise, and to bring the largest mirror he can find on short notice. Then, they had gone seeking the information they needed.

Helene wears a robe of midnight blue flecked with white pinpricks. It's rare to see Helene in robes instead of pants; rarer still to see something as ostentatious and cleric-like as this formal robes of Alydra. Stranger still is the belt around the center; instead of black with a resin nebula buckle, this belt is pale green, with a deep green motif of vines around it. The colors clash horribly -- it's an Astean belt on an Alydran robe. But Helene doesn't seem to notice or care.

They aren't wearing their glasses. Their hair is pulled back into a low, serious tail. They don't wear lace. They do carry, in addition to their omnipresent satchel, a cloth bag made of black velvet.

They bow low to those assembled when they enter the office, saying nothing at first.

"...going higher up the chain?" Varric asks, voice rough and worn. His eyes are shadowed, bloodshot and his beard is no longer neatly trimmed. Despite magic negating the physiological and even mental need for sleep, that doesn't mean the lack the emotional... rest that sleep provides isn't taking its toll. Nevertheless, his voice is still crisp, his eyes alert.

Aveline is in much the same condition, but Zevran and Merrill lack the magical cheats the other two have. As such, they're even more haggard. Merrill in particular looks more zombie-like than elf at the moment. Zevran offers Helene a wan smile, but doesn't move from where he's supporting the shaman.

"This one will do this one's best." Helene moves to lay out the supplies from the velvet bag: incense meant to decrease the chance of magical interference; a bell, a candle, and a text of Astea's, a classic trifecta used to get in contact with specific deities or extraplanar beings; the wax crayon they had been using to draw on the mirror; a small offering dish, into which they pour a good quantity of expensive oils. They don't speak again as they lay all this out, finally sketching the necessary runes onto the glass.

Isabela, out of all of them, appears to have slept. Not that she's not worried, or terrified that Hawke won't return; just that she's made herself sleep when heartsick before, and will probably need to do so again. She needs to pace herself, needs to keep herself together, above her need to rescue her lover. If there's no Isabela left when they get Hawke back, then getting Hawke back wasn't worth it. Still, she's running on less sleep than normal.

"Is... is there anything we can do to help, Seeker?" Aveline asks as she watches impatiently.

"No. This one will begin." Helene sits cross-legged before the mirror, murmuring softly as they gesture over the mirror. A fog seeps up, seemingly from the interior of the mirror, fogging the glass; they raise their voice and say, "Merciful Astea, please hear this one's call. This one requests aid on behalf of the Champion of Coalside, Twice-Lived All-loving child of Astea, Light Lady Sage Marian zi'Hawke of clan Tethras."

There's no voice that replies, no blaze of light or crescendo of music. But there's not a single person in the room, much less Helene, that doubts that their ritual worked. That **someone** is paying very close attention to them.

"Loving Astea, kind Astea, mother of all, please, this unworthy one beseeches you: where is Lady Sage zi'Hawke, your beloved disciple? Where is the missing heart of the Tethras Clan, that we might find her safe and bring her home?" Helene's voice cracks slightly, and they bow their head, fighting back tears.

Again, there is no answer in words or image. They all just **know** that Hawke is not on this plane. Nor the plane of any deity that owes allegiance to Astea. Nor in Mileen's care. Finally, they **know** that Hawke is not in Limbo, the Astral Plane or any Elemental Plane. Which narrows things down for Helene enough that they can safely say Hawke is in the Hells, the Abyss or Abaddon.

Helene nods. ""Understood. This unworthy one understands. How may we best serve in order to rescue your Champion?"

There's a moment of just... standing in a room, then everyone suddenly **realizes** that Helene Dakesh is a wonderful person that is entirely worthy of having the light of life and love shine on them for eternity.

Another moment passes as the assembled people recover from that, then they find themselves **looking** at the small tapestry that Merrill is almost done making. She normally only makes clothing, but in this case, the elf had found herself driven to create a tapestry with her wife's crest on it, along with the Clan words written in celestial. As they stare, they **understand** that they need to hold fast to those words and what they represent. That they have to continue to depend on each other and hold true to not just the words, but the spirit of them. To the love and goodness that Hawke is to them.

Helene nods. "Understood," they whisper, overcome with emotion. "This un-- this Seeker would ask, if it does not offend the Most Good, who or what took thy Champion from her Clan."

Another long pause, this one longer than the previous ones.

" **ORDERED MALEVOLENCE.** "

Everyone finds themselves driven to their knees with the sheer weight of that voice. The boundless sorrow and pity in the words, the compassion and longing for that which those words described to turn to love and life, to beauty, creation and the light.

Helene nods, voice and hands trembling. "Is-- is there anything we should obtain to best serve your beloved Hawke?"

A pause. Then they all **recall** the ring Hawke had worn on her trip to the Enclave. Although... come to think of it, didn't Estelle leave with that, in order to have a secure line of communication to Nyra? Who has the other end of that anyway?

Helene, however, **pictures** something different. A broken shard of mirror, lying on the ground in front of a blackened frame. Despite the dust and grime on the shard, it gleams in the darkness of the room- not, not a room, a crypt. Across the top of the frame, they can see a series of glyphs. Powerful sigils that proclaim the concepts of 'clarity' 'remembrance' 'vision' and 'perception' in.... celestial? Draconic? Sylvian? It's hard to tell... Just as the imagine fades from their sight- but never fades entirely, remembered always- they can see the symbol of Alydra engraved over and over again across a stone casket, along with a name: 'Galio zi'Voiant.' That's... that's the name of one of the very first Lights. A sage, one known for his mastery of divination magics and said to be responsible for ensuring that Nærúa survived long enough to become Nyra by giving warning of numerous disasters and threats. His remains were said to be buried somewhere in the city but Helene can't recall if the exact location was ever made known...

Helene nods. "Un-- understood. Finally, is there a- a-nything else the most divine mother wi-wishes us to kn-know?" Oh, the stammering, that's not a great sign.

" **EIGHT** "

No-one says anything for a moment, the spell ended and the sense of _attention_ gone. Finally, Zevran mutters softly, "do Ciren next." Without prompting, Merrill smacks him lightly on the arm.

"Thanks," the paladin mumbles, eyes a little glazed. _Though to be fair, I wouldn't mind meeting a fraction of Vangal or His own..._

"...eight _what_?" Varric demands, eyes crossed as he thinks furiously.

An endless distance away from that living room, the mirror in front of Hawke reverts to displaying her wide-eyed expression and her drab, empty cell behind her. Was... was that real? It had felt so real, more real than virtually anything she's ever felt before but... why would the devil's mirror display _that event_ of all things? Unless... Unless...

Helene folds over, pressing their forehead to the cool wood floor before them, arms folded around their waist. They weep into the floorboards soundlessly, save for the strained gulps of air they gulp between sobs. Their body is tense, trembling faintly.

Zevran shakes himself, then starts to pull away from Merrill so he can go to Helene- but he's beaten to it by Varric. Kneeling next to the samasarn, he gently pulls them into a hug. "Thank you," he mutters, voice low and thick. "Thank you for that."

Helene lets out a low moan, rocking back and forth in Varric's arms. They seem, to put it into words, helpless, lost, overwhelmed. Over the course of a few minutes, however, they manage to pull themselves back together, breathing deeply. They pull free, looking down at their hands, taking another deep breath. "This-- this one-- this one apologizes."

"Shit, kid, that was... The Light of Life and Love Herself just popped in for a chat, you don't have to apologize for needing a minute," Varric says to them as they pull away.

Aveline is still on her knees, praying softly. Zevran, however, was never one much for words or chants. Instead, he's reached for Isabela, wanting to hold and touch as many of his loved ones as he can at the moment. Merrill, true to form, is just... gone, overwhelmed by the contact.

Helene nods. They open their mouth to speak, then pauses, taking a deep breath. They glance up, only meeting Varric's eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking past him, unable to sustain the contact. "This one.... The Light herself said this one was... worthy." Their voice is a bare whisper.

"Yeah She did," Varric says gently. "Makes sense though. I mean... I'm not surprised about the verdict. Doubt Zevran is. Or any of your friends. Hawke wou- won't be."

"This one belongs to Alydra. This one barely functions on a social level. This one is struggling to understand the nuances of friendship. How-- how does this one's heart--?"

"I..." Varric takes a deep breath. "I'm not the best person to ask this sort of thing. But... if I had to guess... I think it's because you try. Hawke's a wonder, she really is. But... in a way, it's.. a lesser victory for her, to make a friend, to find love. It's easy for her. She has to try to not love someone. Force herself to not reach out to people, to make bonds. Guess it's kind of like us with learning, with discovering. You never consider it a... task, a burden, that Alydra wants you to discover things, right? But for us, reaching out, opening up? that's hard. Gods it's so damn hard." The dwarf speaks slowly, carefully, as he studies his hands.

Helene is quiet for a time, their trembling slowly subsiding. Finally, quietly, they say, "Understood."

"You... you need a few minutes to... freshen up a bit?" Varric offers awkwardly. "I could make us some tea."

Helene shakes their head. "No, there is-- there is so much work to be done." A deep breath. "To recap the information obtained: Lady Sage zi'Hawke appears to be the captive of a Devil in one of the three Unholy Planes. To rescue her, we must obtain the communication device used to communicate with zi'Hawke while she was travelling. We must also obtain and repair the magic mirror belonging to Lord Sage zi'Voiant. Finally, we must uphold and honor the Clan words. Is that understood?"

"Wait, mirror?" Varric asks, confused.

"I don't recall a Lord Sage by that name," Aveline adds, frowning slightly in thought.

Helene blinks. "This one was shown clearly a mirror. Lord Sage zi'Voiant was one of the founders of Nyra, and the mirror was shown in his crypt. Which has been lost to history."

"Which question was this? I got the location bit, though I wouldn't have been able to narrow it down that well, and the devil part. The Clan words... that was strange, but seems simple enough," Varric replies.

"If we're facing a devil, a powerful one, it might not be so simple," Aveline interjects. "They're masters of temptation and deceit, even more than demons. Illusions, verbal tricks, hiding in plain sight... devils might be less violent than demons or less lethal than daemons but that's because they prefer subtlety. Corruption, lingering pain."

"The question of what we needed to find. It-- perhaps only I need this mirror?" Helene wonders.

"Or perhaps it's simply a... division of assets," Zevran offers softly. "Both are needed but any of us can use the ring, while only you can use the mirror."

"...that would make sense. Mirrors are traditional tools for scrying," Varric agrees with a nod. "Or... hel- err, maybe it's a thank you? Or even a bit of quid pro quo from Astea to Alydra for borrowing you from Her?

"This one has a mirror," says Helene slowly. "But there are mirrors that this one has read about that would improve this one's scrying ability. Perhaps even allow it to function across planes."

Varric's eyes widen. "Ah. Yeah, that would... be handy right now." _Calm down, old man. There are perhaps and shoulds and 'need to finds' in that plan. Deep breath._ "Anything you need, say the word and we'll make it happen, alright?"

"I want to help," Merrill blurts out. "Please. If... if I can, I want to... help."

Helene nods. "This one will need to do research. A lot of research. This one will need to study the history of the city, burial rites, biographies of the founders... This one would welcome Beinn Varric's assistance in this. And-- Lady zi'Hawke is one who communes with spirits?" Helene turns to Merrill. "Would-- perhaps they might be of assistance in finding lost items?"

Merrill wilts a little. "...maybe?" she says lamely. "They don't... really notice a lot of things like that but... Elderite can sometimes give some advice about things the honored dead knew so..."

"I can certainly help with the research part. I've been funding this coot, name of Cobble or something. Weird guy but he's a terror about collecting old books about Nyra. Not so much about reading them, just... collecting them. And I have a few others avenues that might get us somewhere," Varric offers, fingers tapping at his thigh as he thinks. "City records are easy enough to get into- what I can't, Aveline can thanks to Hawke."

Helene nods. "And if Honored Isabela, Captain Vallen, and Honored Madam Zevvy pursue the ring, we will lose no time."

"The ring shouldn't be to hard... probably," Aveline says slowly. "We can find out who has it easily enough from the Foreign Affairs Bureau. Getting control of it might be harder though. I can try to claim it with Hawke's authority but that's... problematic. We might have to depend on Isabela and Zevran being lucky enough to just find it on the ground or something." Zevran snorts- but silently, not wanting to rub in how easily the paladin is willing to set aside the... more fussy laws for Hawke's sake.

They lay out their plans and separate, each going to their assigned tasks. Aveline doesn't quite make it to the Bureau, however, before a runner catches up to her, delivering a message: Bright's Adonai wishes to see her about a missing persons case immediately, in the teahouse in which they'd met before. She sends Zevran and Isabela on ahead to get in line and navigate through the first few clerks, dashing out a quick note giving them authority to speak on her behalf in this matter, before she heads to the teahouse, hoping for good news.

That hope is not bolstered by the grim expression on Adonai's face. The oread has ordered a pot of tea for them to split, though he seems to be more interested in running his finger around the outside of his earthen mug than drinking it. "Bright's Vallen," he greets her, standing when she comes near. "I have news, but a disclaimer also. Firstly, I have found what I believe to be your missing person, and she appears as of yet physically unharmed."

Aveline stares a moment. _That's... that's it? Just a chance encounter, a cup of half-decent tea and the lead I need falls in my lap? That's... incredible._ "Where? Where is she? How sure are you?"

"I'm not certain, but she matches the description. Brunette, short hair, waifish? Half-elven, with a wounded look in her eyes, like she's not sure she'll ever be safe again? But a hint of determination, too; the set of her shoulders, that lifted chin, the kind that tells me she did something foolish to end up there. I don't know what, or how. But she has that hero look to her." He sighs. "I went right to my contact, asked about securing passage. That's where the bad news comes in."

_The kind that tells me... that sounds like he saw her, personally, already. But..._ "Who is your contact? What's the bad news?" _What is bothering me so much about this?_

He sighs. "My contact is... not a nice man," he admits. "He's not at the top of the food chain where he works, but he's not at the bottom either. Sometimes he drives a hard bargain, when it suits him. When there's pressure, for example, or when he's feeling -- well, it doesn't matter. To get right down to it, he knows who it is I'm after, and who I'm asking on behalf of. For passage there, he's going to need a bigger favor than you might be comfortable with." Adonai looks ashamed, hunching his shoulders as he stares down at the tea.

Aveline scowls. "Then just tell me where the location is and I'll find my own way." _Astea! That's what's- if this is the path to Hawke, why did She send us after the ring? The shard of mirror or whatever it was the Seeker saw? There's something missing, something wrong with all of this._

He sighs. "It's extraplanar," he admits. "A private space. The only way I can arrange to get you there is through my contact or one of his even less savory fellows."

"Yes, you implied as much before but- do you not even know the plane?" Aveline presses. "Fine- put me in touch with your contact, let me work something out directly." _One way or another._

"I can arrange a meeting," he agrees. "Just so you know going in, he wants me to ask you to abuse your position with the Guard on his behalf in exchange for passage there and no guarantee of safety for the girl. You might be able to bargain with him."

Aveline smiles coldly. "He wouldn't be the first to _try_ ," the paladin says evenly. _Can Merrill imprison a devil? Probably best not to even ask her. Wynne or the Seeker could probably do it._ "How soon can you arrange a meet?"

"How soon are you available? I can probably arrange something tomorrow morning?"

"Where?" Aveline says, thinking it over. _If it's close enough to the Bureau... might be able to swing it without delaying Astea's, ah, suggestion._

"I can send him here, or try to. Or if you know somewhere more private? He'll be a greasy-looking little Gnome, with bright blue hair and sickly green skin."

"...there's a small courtyard off Dedication, on the east side of Bedrock. Statue of some long dead Light in fussy robes, one arm snapped off. Can you get him there at, say, eight bell?" Aveline says after a moment. _Just a few blocks from the Bureau, should be able to met with this... personage, then get in line. Zevran and Varric can... question the contact if he proves hostile._

"I'll do my best." He nods. "I do apologize for all the trouble. I regret that we couldn't make this work."

_Do you? It almost..._ Aveline forces herself to smile. "Well, there's still hope. There's always hope, right? And if there's not, then we make hope."

"There's still hope, as long as I have breath," replies the disguised Devil. _Hope that I'll come out on top._ "Hope and faith." _Faith in my own abilities._

After a rapid farewell, Aveline rushes off to the Bureau to catch up with Zevran and Isabela. They, eventually, get the name of the current diplomat in charge of communicating with the Enclave, only to find out that he's currently at home sick. Tainted food or something. After a brief debate with Isabela and Zevran, she heads back to consult with Helene and Varric, while the pair head off to have a nice evening walk with each other.

In Aurora.

That night, the party sets up an ambush at the courtyard while Merrill contacts Estelle and informs the drow as to what's going on, who in turn promises to get there as soon as she can. The next morning, Aveline approaches the 'gnome' and attempts to get their measure. Two minutes later, she gets a Smite Evil to stick and the party swarms the poor schmuck. Unfortunately, what is revealed to be an imp is also so far down on the power structure of whoever took Hawke that they don't get much from the sceleratis.

\---

Meanwhile, a few miles from Nyra, Anders is informed he'll be getting a new patient: a young man who'd had a severe breakdown after his family's business was ruined by a merchant group. His mother was dead well before, when Karl was a young boy. His father had died in the month after, having been stabbed to death in a mugging while coming home from the second of two part-time unskilled labour jobs he'd been forced to get in order to keep them feed. Karl had also taken a part-time job, but he'd been attempting to finish his last year in a wizarding school and... well. Things had evidently unraveled rather rapidly after that.

Currently Karl has been doing fairly well, having responded well to the last six months of therapy, and his previous healer had suggested that getting out of the city for a time might be just the thing to help finish up his recovery. So he's supposed to be a very light-care patient, mostly just check-ins and socialization. Shouldn't be that much of a burden at all really- and, rather handily, there's a note in his file that mentions that he'd been studying alchemical, which means he'll have at least some experience with herbs, Anders's current monthly chore. Taking care to arrive to breakfast a little early, Anders waits by the door so he can greet Karl personally- should stand out pretty well, as the only new face and all.

And stand out Karl does- short black hair, a little messy but with a pleasing curl to it. Sloe eyes, a soft looking mouth, fine features given depth by hard work and hardship. A trim but solid build, with long, clever looking hands and a shy air about it as he looks around curiously.

Anders looks the boy over, trying his best to put his immediate response out of mind. The boy is charming, yes. Attractive. Soft, dainty, wounded. But that's not the point. The point is, this is his new _patient_. He's not going to think about how soft his lips look.

"Welcome to Summerhill Annex. I am Healer Anders, I expect you'll be seeing rather a lot of me in the next few months."

The young man, who looks a few years younger than his file's number of twenty-four, glances over at Anders. Looking in his eyes... well, Anders can see that he's at least in his mid-twenties. Those eyes have seen pain and hardship. "Oh," he says a little breathlessly, a faint elven accent showing. "Sorry, lost in my thoughts. Call me Karl please. I- I don't... Mister Runling makes me think of..." He falters, then forces up a smile. "Anyway. Anders- that's- you're the Healer assigned to me then?"

Anders nods, his smile remaining professional even if he has to force it. _Sweet Ciren, I just want to bundle him up and hold him close._ "That's me. Only one name, I'm afraid, I've never taken a surname. How are you finding your accommodations?"

"Empty," Karl says with a half-laugh. "No roommate assigned, yet anyway. But they're nice. Nicer than I was expecting to be honest. I've never really been in a rural area like this. Passed through but never... lived on a farm. Have you been here long? At the Annex, I mean."

"Yes, actually. I helped found the place; I did some research and found that this setting is often conducive to healing trauma and quieting more violent urges." Anders smiles, moving toward the doorway. "Mind if I join you for breakfast?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure, of course. It'll be nice to get to know you," Karl says with a faint smile. He glances away as he follows after Anders. "How's the food? Pretty fresh, I imagine, but how're the cooks?"

"Better than they were," jokes Anders. "When we first started it was nothing but overcooked eggs and burnt porridge. Now the food's passable, some days even good."

Karl chuckles a little, lips curving to reveal a dimple. "Sounds a step up from my cooking," he admits. _Not like I even need to eat, disgusting flaw._ "Students and bachelors are not known for their cooking skills- combine the two and... yeah. I can brew some very good teas though."

"Teas are lovely," says Anders with a warm smile. "We have a whole garden full of herbs that make lovely tisanes, and a few prized tea bushes in the greenhouse."

Karl takes on a wistful expression. "Been a while since I was able to really have a free hand with some herbs and reagents." _About... two hundred years, when I was teaching that countess how to brew her way to power. Good times... good times..._ "What do you do here? I mean, aside from looking after us," he adds quickly, looking like he's embarrassed by the awkward phrasing.

"A little of this and that. Right now it's the season for stocking up the stillroom, I could use some help with that if you like. Or if you prefer animals, there's always sheep duty, but it's got less of a chance to work with your hands this time of year."

Karl makes a face. "Ah, no thank you on that! I much prefer plants to animals. Cleaner and less... willful, I suppose. People you can talk to, reason with and such, but beasts are just... mindless." _Bleat bleat, fool._

The healer chuckles. "I know what you mean. Sheep are often exhausting."

"Quite so," Karl says. "How did you end up... doing all this? It... I have to admit, before I was... Before. If asked before, I would have said that this kind of healing was... worthwhile. Little profit, little prestige. No ranks or honors... it seems a selfless duty. I'm curious about what kind of person would choose it."

"That, unfortunately, is a story for another day. Suffice to say, someone close to me required the services of this facility, and I realized very quickly how short-staffed we were." He smiles, a wistful, knowing smile.

Karl reaches over tentatively to rest his hand on Anders's arm. "I... I hope I'm not overstepping if I offer my... condolences or, perhaps, congratulations?"

"Congratulations?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"If they got better?" Karl explains. "I mean... that's what we're all hoping for, right?"

"Ah." He gives an amused smile. _Here I thought he was implying -- well, nevermind._ "They did indeed make a full recovery. It was several years ago."

"Then congratulations," Karl says with a broad smile, his hand squeezing Anders's arm for a few seconds, then lets go. "So... besides the, uh, farm chores I guess, what do we do out here? Is there any chance..." He offers Anders a shy, almost pleading glance, then hesitates."

"That we have chess? Because if that's what you were going to ask, you're in luck." He smiles.

Karl furrows his brow, then blushes as he yanks his hand back. "Oh- I no- I didn't mean to- I- books. My studies. I was... I mean, I'd put in a lot of work and... It would be a shame to never finish, right?" By the time he's done, his voice is just an embarrassed whisper.

"Of course. Studies are very important." He nods.

"Thank you," Karl says with a faint blush. "So... what's good for breakfast around here?" _As if dead flesh and plants are anything to savor._

"Steer toward the potatoes. It's hard to ruin potatoes." He grins, steering the boy toward the breakfast line. _This one will be no hardship to help, that's for certain._

\---

The mirror goes dark leaving Hawke alone.

She sits, hugging her knees, watching the dark mirror. The empty space where her friends were just moments before. It had been sixteen days since the challenge began; just before Karl had gone to Anders, she'd seen the devil bump into Wynne and excuse himself, starting that clock. Sixteen days without food or water, only a spell to remove her hunger and thirst. Fourteen days without peeing; the first few days involved an awkward use of a pot in the corner until her kidneys had given up making sense of all this. Sixteen days with only as much sleep as her frantic mind would let her take. Sixteen days without speaking to another person.

_Only one hundred and twelve more to go, at most._

Hawke begins to think she isn't as shrewd a bargainer as she'd hoped.

\---

She's staring at the ceiling, yet again, when she realizes there's someone is standing right at the foot of her bed. Well, raised wooden box with a blanket over it.

Tentoplenumitaeziro.

"Myneedsarenotmet," she chokes out, all one word. She'd pictured the words, turned them over for hours and hours every night, preparing herself to say them no matter how gone she is. No matter how bad things look. She never anticipated the way they'd tumble out of her lips in a jumble, the way the urgent need to get them out would make nonsense of them.

_Deep breath, Hawke. Let it out._

"My physical needs are not being met. You are in danger of breaching your contract."

The devil looks amused, though his eyes are hard. "Is that right?" he asks lazily. "You are nourished, protected from the elements, given air and a place to sleep. What else do you mortals need?" His lip curls a little. "Unless you are going to tell me that you... _require_ serving, then I fail to see what needs are lacking fulfillment."

Deep breath. A rapid deep breath, but it's plenty deep. Another, for good measure. She tries to half-close her eyes, to force her face into a cocky expression, but she can't hide the wild look in them. "Mortals require social contact. Particularly humanoids. Canines require a pack bond to be healthy, and humans require social interaction, relationships. Physical contact as well. That one's called skin hunger, it's well documented."

"How lovely. That sounds psychological, not biological and thus not my concern. I, however, am due another name so..." He makes a rolling gesture with one hand.

"You are not. And psychology is rooted in biology."

"Aveline's term is over, thus I need a new name," Tentoplenumitaeziro says flatly, ignoring her other comment.

"You have two others, work on those." Her tone is just as flat as she glares at him.

"I finished with a target, so I get another name," he counters, hoping to bull over her objections if he keeps pressing.

"When you're out of names, I'll give you one more," she counters. "Unless you're up for another bargain?"

"Always," he says silky. "That is my nature after all."

_How many names do I have left? Five?_ "I'll give you a name if you get me my mabari to keep me company."

Tentoplenumitaeziro pauses a moment. "Your... mabari," he repeats.

"She's company, she's unwaveringly loyal, and you have no use for her, unlike most of my friends, who you'd delight in tormenting to hurt me."

"Someone can learn... somewhat," the devil says with a dark laugh."A name after each target is completed in exchange for your mabari sharing your fate then."

"Absolutely not." _I won't damn someone that loyal._ "One name now and I can call someone using this mirror once a day, target my choice on the Material plane."

"Hah," Tentoplenumitaeziro says flatly. "Such humor you have. One name per target completed and in exchange your mabari shares the same conditions of your stay for the duration of our wager."

"And returned at the end, regardless of outcome." _I can always bargain with names given early._

_As if I care about some lesser beast._ "Very well. Do we have an amendment?" he asks, offering his hand.

_I hope I'm doing the right thing here._ "Agreed." She reaches for his hand.

"Then we have amended our deal," the devil purrs, a shifting sensation twinging in her chest, underneath the knot of scar tissue.

"The next name is Zevran." She sighs. _He's good for it. He has to be._

"The whoremaster? Oh I'd hoped you be such a fool," the devil says with a delighted laugh. Without another word, he vanishes.

"Fuck."


	19. Temptations: Wynne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynne takes on a difficult patient... and so does Anders.

A pounding on Wynne's door in the wee hours of the morning is never a good sign. The fact that it's Antwon, one of the orderlies from Summerhill, is even less a good sign. She's pulling on her cloak even as he speaks: "Come quickly, ma'am, we haven't much time. We need a delve quick, and Gunner is dead, and I can't find Stuccy or Morrison, and you know how I'm only half trained, and Anders and Stevonnie are both at the auxiliary campus, and--"

By now he's trailing after her, stumbling through an explanation. "The guard are all crowded 'round, we got them to agree to back off but I don't know how long it'll last. Chap named Alistair brought her in. She's a suspect, see, but the murderer's got to Gunnar while she was in custody and she started having fits. They don't know what's wrong with her. We got her calm but she's catatonic, won't respond for nothin'. She's a summoner, they're worried she might have a rogue summon as doin' the killin'. Can't find her eideleon neither."

_Something about all this seems familiar but... no, put it aside._ "Nature of her condition? Medical history? Name?" she asks crisply as she gamely pushes herself to follow at speed.

He gives a quick rundown of her condition: stable, catatonic, nonresponsive. He also describes her earlier fits, which sound more like a mental disorder than a physical seizure or some such, but a lot of it's third-hand from guards; she'd calmed some by the time she was brought to Summerhill. It seems likely this Alistair gave her something to make her more docile, but he hasn't admitted to it if so. "Medical history obviously unknown, but the name was Morrigan Black."

_That name is very familiar.I can't recall from where... something Merrill mentioned? Something related to Hawke, before... No, focus on now. Focus on your duty. Focus on the patient._ "Understood. Is there anything known about the patient that might be related? What kind of practitioner is she?"

"A summoner, ma'am. Demons." He wrinkles his nose. "Hence the suspect in a string of murders."

"I-" _Wait, that's it. Merrill was talking about a friend of Hawke's, a summoner of some kind. From the sound of it, there was trouble between her and Aveline about it... this would certainly fit._ "Do we have a paladin or inquisitor on hand to assist?" _Just because it's in someone's head, doesn't mean the demons or the like are any less nasty. Nor, thankfully, any less vulnerable to certain abilities. Well, rarely less so anyway._

"I can get Savan. He's a paladin, though not the demon-killing sort. Bastion." They'd been experimenting with paladins of Bastion for the healing effects, their ability to calm manic or enraged patients and soothe away fears. "And I can probably hold down the ritual from here, so you can both go in. You both know the waking routine by now, if you get into any trouble?"

"Yes, of course. Savan's solid too. Not worked with him yet, but Anders has and I trust his judgement on such things." _Such a change from... was it just three years ago? Four?_ "Alright, well, that should do for at least a sounding. Lead on."

\---

In short order, the pair of them find themselves standing inside Morrigan's mind, in what is clearly a library full of forbidden tomes. As they browse the stacks, they both become aware of a... Presence. Something or someone has taken notice of them, and here inside a Delve that usually means one thing: the Id.

"Miss Black?" Wynne calls out strongly, making no attempt to hide. "My name is Wynne, a healer of Summerhill. Have you heard of us?"

There's a shusshing sound, as though paper were rustling, or dead leaves blowing in the wind. That's the only warning they get before a snake-tailed monster slithers out from behind a shelf, bat wings tucked neatly against its back, red eyes glowing ominously. "This one is afraid it is only this one."

_Well. That's... unpromising._ "And you are..?" Wynne asks carefully, Rhys stirring protectively in her heart and mind.

"This one is Miss Black's Eidolon," it says, gesturing down at itself. "Can this one be of service?"

"Do you not have a name?" Wynne asks. _Is this her actual eidolon or merely her mental representation?_

"In this form, this entity is called Olin." It bows, dipping its feline muzzle as it does.

"I see. Do you know where your... partner is, Olin?" Wynne asks politely. _In this form?_

"This one is aware of the whereabouts of Miss Black's Id, yes."

"You know where you are then? What this place is?" _That would indicate this is in fact the eidolon, not merely an aspect. There's yet to have been an aspect that could really grasp the nature of a mindscape. Ids, yes, but not aspects._

"This is Miss Black's mind, or a representation thereof, projected onto the Dream plane."

"Quite so," Wynne says, eyebrows raising for a moment. _Curiouser and curiouser._ "Very good then. Can you take us to Miss Black's Id?" she asks, glancing at Savan.

Savan is staring intently at the eidolon, his holy symbol out above his tunic, ready just in case.

The eidolon bows. "This one can indicate the proper direction. The id must be reached by the quester."

"Can you explain what you mean by that? Is the Id trapped in some manner?" demands Wynne.

"The Id has retreated for safety," it admits. "There are locks in place, locks that can be opened. The forms that they take require a mortal participant to open them."

Wynne frowns slightly. "Well... lead on for now, but can you explain more as we go?"

"Of course." The eidolon bows, then begins leading them through the library. "Miss Black is exceptionally skilled in the Dark Summoning Arts," it begins, as they walk after it. "Those who are not willing to bargain for power are therefore likely here to do her harm, rather than to aid. That said, a fellow summoner would likely be here to pilfer knowledge -- and thus, become entrapped by the books in this library." A pause. "You should not touch them if you wish to leave this domain, by the way."

_Good we hadn't gotten to the point of opening any of them earlier..._ "I see. I've treated those with mental defenses before," Wynne comments. _And my own mind has numerous defenses as well, not the least of which is my beloved._ "Can you tell us what form those around the Id take?"

"This one has disabled the outermost trap, the one intended to require flight to cross. That leaves the three inner seals, which require summoning knowledge -- which this one possesses -- and a degree of intent particular to mortals to lower."

"A degree of- ah. That's... actually somewhat clever," Wynne murmurs. "She patterned her defenses after diabolic or demonic rituals, as she suspected most if not all intruders would be sceleratis and thus unable to enact the proper steps to disengage the protections."

"And as this one is not a mortal, this one is unable to disengage those mechanisms."

The paladin frowns. "I'm not certain I'm willing to disengage them either."

"I suspect they won't be actual summoning rituals- doing so in one's own mindscape would be... unwise in the extreme, which even a notice summoner would be aware of. Would I be correct in assuming they're merely offerings or exaltations?" Wynne asks Olin politely.

"Offerings, yes," Olin agrees.

"I'm not certain I'm comfortable making offerings to an evil deity or sceleratis, either," he points out. "My oaths are to Bastion."

"Perhaps if the lady is willing?"

"Depending on the severity of the offering required," Wynne allows. "My first duty is the patient after all and Alydra is... more tolerant of such things, especially as I am merely a follower. We shall have to see when we get there, I suppose."

See they do. The eidolon takes them through the library and to the basement, where it leads them into an opened secret passageway, pointing out where it had to fly up to the ceiling to activate the opening. It leads them down the stairs to the sub-basement, which appears to be a cave, complete with damp, dripping water. At the far end of the cave is a large, ornate door. In front of the door is a stone altar; beside the altar is a trough of grain. Engraved upon the altar is the symbol of Sirena, and in the center of it is a brazier, with candles to either side.

"The first offering is an offering of grain, burnt to reach the goddess. It is no more than a courtesy. One who would enter the Inner Sanctum must, at the least, be polite to the darker powers."

"Well, I cannot say I approve of most of Her domains, but I do enjoy sipping chilled lemonade on warm summer nights," Wynne says slowly. "I have no particular reluctance with giving thanks for the season. Such a thing is no sin to my goddess." Suiting word to deed, the spiritualist trails her fingers through the grain, then casts a handful of it into the brazier.

The offering accepted, the door creaks open. Her companion frowns, but doesn't complain; this sort of offering is really between any individual offeror and their deity, and while he won't partake, there's no real call to chastise her for doing what they need to get done. Savan really is a fairly reasonable man, after all.

The eidolon leads them through the passageway behind the door, down the twisting, turning passages. There are chambers to either side, but it continues on, not stopping to check any of them. Soon they come to a second altar, this one made of white marble, before a matching door. The altar has a goblet fused into the marble, and a dagger placed upon it. The name engraved here is in Infernal, clearly the name of some power in the nine hells.

"This is a blood offering. The offeror provides blood, which can be used to fuel demonic rituals. This of course is painful for most mortals to do, and represents the willingness to suffer to obtain what is necessary."

"This is..." Savan frowns. "This I will not do. Suffer to heal another, yes, but bleed for an infernal power, that I cannot do."

"All that is required is that one of us offer a bit of our blood? Nothing else?" Wynne asks with a frown. _That is... hmmm. This is growing darker faster than I'd have hoped._

"To open this door, yes, that is the requirement," it replies simply.

"Any particular method required or forbidden?" Wynne asks.

It spreads its hands out, palms up. "It must be blood from the veins, but otherwise, this one knows not of any restriction. A weapon was provided in the event none are otherwise available, but there is no requirement to use that specific one."

Wynne smiles faintly. "Very well." She moves to the altar and pulls out her own dagger. Placing the edge against her palm, she intones, "I shed my blood of my own will, that it might be used to further the works of good and order in the mortal plane. May you use it wisely." _There. Fulfills the requirements while making the offering practically worthless to any devil. Oh, I'm sure they can figure out some gain to have of it, if this even counts, but even so, it seems more good than evil on the balance by a fair margin._

_This one may be challenging. But there's no getting around the last one._ The eidolon makes no change in expression, merely watching impassively as the doors open.

The stairs cut beyond it are also white marble, and it leads the way, having little trouble despite its serpentine body. At the top is a building of marble, with a double row of pillars marking the path straight through. Again, they can glimpse rooms off to the sides, but the eidolon leads straight ahead, ignoring them all.

The final chamber is made of obsidian, with an altar and a door made of the same substances. There is a dagger and a name in infernal, just like the previous altar, but there is also a coil of blood-red rope, and there is no receptacle, no sign of an offering. There is a circle inscribed in the floor, black candles with blue flames lit around the edges, runes carved into the outer ring. The altar is as large as a bed, and there are iron rings sticking out of the obsidian, hard points a person can be tied to.

"The final gate is one only those willing to offer great power to the infernal beings may open. The sacrifice is intended to be a mortal life."

Savan stops dead. "Absolutely not!"

"This one reminds the guests that this is a symbolic gesture. One violent act, one open door. The rules of this world have not changed."

Wynne purses her lips, then smiles. "I volunteer myself then," she says easily. "This is merely symbolic, so there will be no power or soul granted to infernal powers. And by freely volunteering my pain and time from 'death' in a Delve, for the sake of my patient..." She shrugs. "This leaves you to speak with Miss Black, but you have at least some negotiation training, correct?"

"Soul, no. Power, yes. This setup represents an equivalent exchange: power, though less than for a true sacrifice, to the devil named, in exchange for the opening of this door. Unfortunately, progress is only possible if the one who performed the sacrifice is still present, so your companion would have to perform said sacrifice." _Mostly because if you sacrifice yourself, I'll stop the paladin from entering._

"Which I absolutely will not do! Have you gone mad?"

Wynne frowns, thinking this through. As she does so, she moves closer to the altar to study the design, particularly the name there. She knows infernal, of course, and has a rather expansive grounding in planar, religious and arcane matter so, perhaps she can see something that prompt a thought.

It is an invocation to a specific devil, one of likely middling power: nothing particularly chilling, but no mere imp. It is the sort of name that devils hand out to those they work with for this express purpose: in the hopes of being contacted to make bargains for power. Everything seems to be as the eidolon says: it won't take her soul, but it will be a willing lending of power to a devil, a sacrifice to empower them. That is an evil act, even if it would be likely balanced enough by her other acts.

"Why this devil?" Wynne asks. "If this is supposed to be part of the defenses of her mind, defenses specifically designed to prevent possession or mental trickery by devils, why would she invoke a devil in this way? Merely having this... conduit from her mind to it, she leaves a weak spot. Having the name engraved within her so deeply is even worse."

"This one cannot offer any more than speculation on the deepest workings of Miss Black's mind," says the eidolon with a shrug "This one knows the name has changed in the past. Perhaps it has some significance to her."

"What was the timing on the change? Was there a significant event- perhaps a bargain?- that occurred at the same time or just prior to this?" Wynne asks, gaze shifting to Olin.

"It was recent, shortly after her mental collapse." Olin again makes the palms-up supplication gesture.

Wynne frowns, staring at the name intently. "Olin... do you know anything about what _caused_ the mental collapse?" the healer asks slowly. _This is... wrong. This feels wrong._

"This one cannot say." _Otherwise I'd lose the bet._ "This one is hopeful to discover what can be learned when the door is open."

_Cannot say... No... This isn't working._ "We're going to have to come back with more personal," Wynne finally says with a sigh. "My apologies Olin but this won't work. If a self-sacrifice is untenable, then our current roster just isn't capable of getting past this last defense."

"You are not concerned for the stability of the id?" Its tone is neutral, with a slight hint of disapproval.

"Of course, but not enough to rush this. A hastily delivered cure of poor proportion and make is worse than the proper cure given with a delay," Wynne replies firmly. She looks over at Savan. "Let's wake for now, we should be able to return tomorrow or the day after at most."

Savan scowls. "Surely you're not thinking of performing an actual mortal sacrifice here."

Wynne shrugs. "That's not up to me, not entirely. I would want to converse with the Doctor before I even considered settling on a course of action. In the meantime..." Her eyes go slightly out of focus as she begins to wake.

"Yes, agreed. Let us depart with haste." Savan closes his eyes, beginning his own waking process.

Moments- seconds- later, the pair wake in the material plane. "That... this Delve is... problematic," Wynne says tiredly. "Our current roster is unsuitable, we'll need different personal, I suspect."

"It's entirely unsuitable. No-one should be performing this sort of act, even in a symbolic way." Savan scowls at her. "We'll have to find another way in."

\---

The ring of communication had been retrieved. Aveline, Varric, Zevran, Merrill, and Isabela huddle in Hawke's home, in her parlor, without her. It's so strange to have a gathering like this and not have Hawke here to host -- in someone's lap, flirting with someone else, soothing over ruffled feathers and drawing people out when they get too quiet. Hawke really is more than just the Matriarch; she's the heart and soul of the clan, gluing people together who would otherwise never have even spoken, let alone become friends.

Merrill has to make the tea, because Hawke isn't here to do it. Aveline answers the door as the others arrive, because Hawke isn't here. Zevran is the one pacing, with no Hawke to pull him down to the couch and make him calm down. Isabela looks ready to flee at any moment, unsure how badly this will go. And Varric... His masks are slipping, despite his best efforts.

When Estelle answers, there's a palpable sense of relief in the room. They run down the update quickly: Hawke is missing, they have reason to believe she's in the Nine Hells, Varric's brother was trafficking with devils and Hawke was on his trail when she was taken, it's been weeks and there's no sign of her and they're getting desperate, and oh yeah, Astea _herself_ had told them to get this ring, hopefully so they can contact Estelle.

"...Astea," Estelle says blankly. "Not Andraste. _Astea_."

"Yes. Seeker Helene preformed a spell ritual that contacted Her," Aveline says, her tone in perfect agreement with Estelle.

"...and She told you to contact _me_?"

"She told us to get the ring that contacts you at least, so... yes," the paladin confirms. "She also reminded us to hold fast to our Clan Virtues and, when asked if She wanted to... volunteer information, said 'eight.' The number, not the action."

"The Clan- That's... trust, honesty and..."

"Openness," Zevran replies. "Hello Auntie," he adds, now moving to stand behind Isabela and rub her shoulders to give himself something to do.

"Right. Eight what?" the drow asks, still overwhelmed.

"We have _no bloody idea_." Isabela sounds nearly on the edge of hysterics, though she calms a bit when Zevran rubs her shoulders, closing her eyes to lean into the bliss. "Isn't this grand?"

"You said it was a devil?" Estelle asks belatedly. "You're sure devil, not another kind of sceleratis, right?"

"Astea said that 'ordered malevolence' when we asked who took her. Not an expert but that sounds like devil to me," Varric explains.

"Indeed. Alright. If it's a devil... I might be able to find out who," Estelle replies. "We... devil summoning is... a very strong tradition that's no longer practiced but we still have all the texts and other such things." Her voice darkens. "Well, not entirely no long practiced. And Grandmother _does_ owe me a small favor."

Aveline starts to protest, not approving of trafficking in sceleratis even second hand but... _Hawke._

"This is a bad plan," warns Isabela. "This is a very, very bad plan. Very bad." She sighs, collapsing against the sofa back. "Didn't Hawke know a summoner?"

"Currently in jail as the prime suspect for the Invisible Butcher murders," Aveline says, tone annoyed. "Thankfully still just charged but unavailable regardless."

"What, exactly, is your plan?" Varric asks.

"Ummm. Well. Right now, my plan is to approach Grandmother about what she knows about how to find a specific devil that's operating in Nyra. Or... how fo find a specific mortal in the Hells." Estelle growls softly. "I can start by grilling _Tenachka_." She fairly spits the name- evidently, she still holds a bit of a grudge there.

"That... does not sound bad?" Zevran offers.

Merrill sniffles. "Don't sell yourself," she whispers, largely inaudible.

"What did you say Merrill?" Aveline asks gently, moving closer

"Don't... Hawke wouldn't wouldn't... she trade herself back if..."

Aveline's eyes close and she sighs. "Hawke would never forgive herself if you sold your soul or even your service to a devil," she agrees. "And might well turn around and sell herself to get you back."

"That does sound like her," agrees Isabela. She glances to Varric. "Any idea what we _can_ barter?"

"Well... the best offer for us would be our intention to mess up the century of whoever took Hawke, provided we can get in touch with a rival," Varric says distantly, deep in thought. "After that... basic goods- devils bribe and barter with mortals all the time, so they need coin as much as any. Information is... possible- depends on what they ask for, of course. Information on people we don't like is the best, and so forth. Services, if they're something we can stomach, and limited. _Might_ be able to get away with threats and such- if we can bind a devil, it might talk just to get free instead of stuck in a bottle or whatnot for a few hundred years."

Isabela nods. "All that sounds reasonable."

"At the very least, I can question Tenchaka for... free. Her service is already paid for, and lasts until my bloodline ends," Estelle says soberly.

"Ahhh..."

"You're very far down the list of... inheritance, but yes, in theory you could get a 'pet' devil someday. It would mean I'm dead or disinherited though so forgive me if-"

"Nope, nothing to forgive, you're good, you can have her," Zevran assures his aunt rapidly.

"Right. How soon can you get back to us?" Aveline presses.

Estelle frowns, unseen by the others. "Tonight," she finally says. "Late, probably, but tonight."

"That seems reasonable," agrees Isabela. "We have no idea if you're in danger or what, but it seems prudent to keep you close."

"We might not summon devils anymore," a muttered 'mostly,' "but we still put defences against such up as a matter of course. If only because those we fled from still do."

Aveline nods approvingly. "Sound thinking. Alright. Varric is coordinating things, so he'll have the ring. Please get in contract as soon as you know something."

"Of course. And... if I can, I'll try to come to Nyra once I'd done what I can here," Estelle says quietly.

"Good. That's sorted, then," says Isabela with a nod.

With that, Estelle ends the communication after a distracted farewell, leaving the (incomplete) Clan to stare at each other.

_What now?_

\---

Miss Black has another screaming fit in the night, once whatever Alastair gave her wears off. Worse, the man himself is in Wynne's face, demanding answers _yesterday_ , as she's trying to work. They don't have time to wait for The Doctor to give his assessment, he insists. They need to quiet her now or by Junon he'll have her treated elsewhere.

He makes good on his threat, too. Shortly after breakfast, he brings in a healer: an older man, stooped, who Alastair insists on being given access to do a full assessment. When he's done, he'll of course only speak to the guards. Which is what draws Alastair into Wynne's temporary office, slamming a piece of parchment down onto her desk.

"There. I've found a cure you can administer to get our witness operational again."

Wynne needs only three seconds to read the paper and reply. "No." She then takes a sip of her tea.

"I can find someone else who will," he threatens, with a dark glower.

"And I have you arrested for administering an illegal substance to a prisoner," Wynne replies with a shrug. _Probably. If Aveline has her way, at least._

"But nobody else gets murdered. Doesn't that sound worth it?"

"This time?" Wynne shrugs slightly. "Perhaps. But each inch over the line one takes enables the next. No- one must be firm in one's convictions. It either is or is not acceptable. And I will not administer _that_ to one of my patients. If you must find another healer, than so be it."

"Fine. You haven't seen the last of me." He grabs for the paper.

"I suspect not," Wynne admits. _And if he gets noble support for this... Hellfire..._

\---

Helene Dakesh has not had any sleep.

This is bad, they know. Zevran had said as much, the day before. And two days before that. And three days before that. Every time they had run into Zevran, Zevran had inquired about sleep and been increasingly alarmed at how little Helene has had. But he doesn't _understand_. There are so many, many places to bury a body. There are so many books to comb through. There is so much time covered by Nyran history. How will Helene learn anything if they waste their own time with things like sleeping?

The last time Zevran had made that face, he'd told them in no uncertain terms to go to Aveline and get some sleep. He'd asked if he could trust them to get sleep. They had told him yes. That had turned out to be a lie. They had pretended to go to sleep, then spent all night under the covers reading. Just like a little girl might.

They were not coping very well with the lack of sleep.

It was afternoon, and Aveline was now asleep. That meant Helene could read multiple books at once, spread all over the parlor floor, desperate and dizzy and disoriented and still there was just so many pages in each one, and so little paper to cram notes onto...

They don't hear the doorknob turn. Whether this is because Zevran is so good at being quiet or because they are so bad at listening they will not be able to determine, later.

"I will feel bad for this later," Zevran comments from right behind them. A split second _after_ he lifts Helene up and hefts them over his shoulder. "But right now, it feels very warranted."

"H-hey!" They kick, struggling, desperate to get free. "P-put me down this instant!"

"Nope. I'm putting you to bed- you're clearly unable to reason for yourself right now, so, in your current state of diminished capacity, it falls to me to take care of you," Zevran says firmly.

"I am perfectly capable of reason!"

"Really? Then explain why you were sipping from an inkwell when I came in?"

"I-- I was -- I was sniffing it," they mutter. They were, as a matter of fact, wondering if making a moustache out of ink would make them feel less like a helpless little girl without any parents, but they won't admit _that_ on pain of death.

"You have a crude ink mustache on your upper lip," Zevran points out. "Clearly, your coordination is also suffering if you only thought you were- why would you sniff ink?"

Their cheeks darken. "That--- was-- it was--- I thought it might be-- rotten?"

"Ink."

"Ink is-- Ink is biological in nature, isn't it?" they reason. "From sea creatures."

"Not in _Nyra_ ," Zevran says with a frown. "It's made from stone, isn't it? We order big hunks of it and mix it with water at Voice."

"Soot, I think," they puzzle out slowly. "Yes, soot. Soot mixed with gumpaste and water. But more to the point, I'm perfectly reasonable."

"Even though you felt the need to sniff your soot and gumpaste to see if it had spoiled," Zevran comments. _What's gumpaste? Aren't gums what your teeth are attached to?_

They whimper, struggling again. "P-put me down and-- and I'll tell you the truth," they mutter, still quite flushed deep blue.

"Deal," Zevran says brightly, setting them down. In the guestroom. On the bed.

They roll over, burying their face in the pillow quite resolutely before muttering to it, "ink moustache" in what they hope is a very inaudible way.

"...yes, you do have a tiny ink moustache," Zevran says after a moment of trying to work that noise into words. "What about it?"

"Intentional." A pause. "Not a little girl." _There, that settles things._

"Yes... I know..." Zevran says slowly. "Ah. Little girls do not often have facial hair. Which... is not often made of ink. Helene... you would come to me, if you were having... trouble, no?" he asks, unable to hide the sudden but sharp concern in his voice.

Helene is suspiciously quiet.

"Helene... I know you have trouble... looking at people, sometimes, but could I hold you while we talk?" Zevran asks softly.

"Yes." Helene wriggles aside, to make room, and waits for Zevran to lay down before curling up to him, resting their head on his arm.

"This is nice," he murmurs as he pulls them a little closer. "You skin is... different. Good," he adds quickly. "It's smoother, almost slick, but dry. I like noticing little things like that. Knowing something so... personal about you that almost no-one else does."

"I-- I like... being known," they say quietly.

"Talk to me?" he asks softly.

They sigh. "When this one is... impaired," they begin. "This one sometimes has... thoughts... that this one decides not to have when in control of their faculties."

"I see," Zevran murmurs, beginning to rub Helene's back in slow, measured strokes. "I... do you mind if I ask a question about... a specific... detail of your self-image?" he phrases carefully.

"Honored-- You can ask." It's curious, the way they dispense with both the tone and the flattery at one, as though the two are inseparable -- as if, without the formality, all they have is a small, too-flat tone, almost like fear.

"Helene, if this bothers you, or offends, please say something. I don't want to hurt you, I just want to understand you better," he says firmly.

"Please, just ask," they say. "I am... afraid of what you might wish to know more than I am of telling you."

"Okay. I just wanted to know if you considered yourself to be bother male and female or neither male or female," he says quickly. "Or something else entirely."

Helene is quiet for a time. Finally, they turn to look at him, eyes gone distant. "That's an unusual question."

Zevran winces. "I... sorry. You don't have to answer, if you do not wish to."

"It never occurred to me that... there was a distinction," they say slowly. "Between being both and being neither."

"Oh," Zevran says, a bit off guard. "I... I'm happy I could... confuse you more. Damnit. I should have keep my mouth shut. I'm sorry, ma savant sage," he says miserably.

They shake their head. "This one assumed the question was settled. This one is not a girl. Later this one learned about... Sharran... And determined this one is not a boy. This..." Here they are interrupted by a huge yawn. "Bears further research."

"Of course it does," Zevran says gravely, glad Helene's current positioning makes it impossible for them to see the smile he can't keep off his face. "But there is something to be said for your gut response. If you care to share it," he adds, still rubbing their back soothingly.

"This one.." Another yawn. "I don't enjoy being called a gender. So neither, I suppose."

"Then for now, until and unless you tell me otherwise, I'll go with that. But you can research to be sure later," he murmurs softly, his other hand moving to lightly rub their scalp.

"I-- I love how you treat me," they mumble sleepily. "Like I matter."

"You do. You matter a great deal."

"I am glad you think so," they sigh, and it's not an objection, it's a love letter.

"I know so," Zevran replies barely audibly, try to coax his love into drifting off. He starts to hum softly- he's not very good at singing, having never bothered to learn despite a decent voice and great showmanship, but he can hum pretty well.

"I'm--" Another yawn. "Glad." Their little eyelids flutter closed, and, within a few moments, they are sound asleep on top of Zevran's arm.

"Rest for now, my love," Zevran murmurs, pressing a kiss to their forehead, then settling in to nap himself. A few minutes later, Aveline moves away from the door, a very thoughtful look on her face as she gives Beka a pat for the alert.

\---

It's several hours later, sometime past noon, when Helene wakes. It takes a moment to realize that Zevran had tensed underneath them, though he smiles reassuringly down at Helene when they look around. "Aveline has a guest," he murmurs. "Wynne, I think." _Elderly female voice, odds are pretty good anyway._

Helene shakes their head. "Then we should rise." They start to sit up.

"But Helene is warm and comfy," Zevran pretend sulks. _Mostly pretend._ He, however, not hold them down. From what he can tell, they had at least four hours or so, which is pretty good really.

Helene rolls over, getting to their feet blearily. "But there's work to be done."

Zevran whines softly, but follows suit. "You go first and look extra pitiful," he suggests. "Aveline likes you more than me, so if you ask for healing, we have better odds."

Helene winces. "This one is unsure if abusing the mercy of Vangal is the best path to proceeding..."

"Not abusing," Zevran protests. "Helping to ensure we're in good condition," he says. _Though abusing is probably correct for other occasions I- or H-Hawke- has shamelessly cajoled healing after a wild night..._ He coughs. "But we can leave to that to Aveline's judgement, no? And at the least, we can get some tea..." Recalling whose house he's at, he adds, "or chava at least. Though I suspect she keeps some on hand, given..."

Helene nods. "Agreed. Madam Zevvy is welcome to do the asking. This one will endeavor to look as pitiful as possible to aid in his efforts." A small quirk of their lips betrays the joke.

"....I've taught you well, my wise and lovely friend," Zevran says gravely. Then darts in for a kiss before swishing off to the living room.

Helene trails after, the quirk becoming a full-on smile. Kisses from Zevran tend to do that to them.

"-oble support, then it can be overridden," Aveline is saying with a sigh. "And all of my... all of the Lights I could normally get help from are... not available or unwilling to block it. Presuming Alistair gets the support needed for the emergency motion."

Both women glance over as they enter, but neither seem alarmed. Wynne seems a touch surprised to see them here, but merely nods in greeting.

Helene gives a small bow. "Is there a problem?" they ask, latching onto the words 'emergency motion'

Wynne's face darkens a bit. "Yes, but..." She glances at Aveline, who nods after a moment's consideration. "It's part of an ongoing investigation, so discretion if you would. Miss Black- the summoner who is the current, _official_ prime suspect in the Invisible Butcher case- had a fit last night. Some form of seizure but non-typical in too many regards. I Delved her this morning and... her Id has withdrawn past her mental defenses. Instead of giving us time to find a safe way past, the guard in charge of her care is insisting that... certain other steps be taken."

"He wants to administer a mixture of halo mushroom, azure striped toadstool, laudanum and sweetdream," Aveline says bluntly.

Helene blinks. "To damage the mind and then put her to sleep?"

"To break her mental defenses- entirely ignoring how this will have lasting effects," Wynne says in a sharp voice. "The impairment to her mind directly from the admixture aside, giving someone already suffering from mental trauma- because a fit of this magnitude and irregularity does not just occur- is absurd. An absolute travesty and abhorrent to any _real_ healer. And, of course, laudanum is highly addictive, often times on the first dose, particularly given the _amount_ they wish to administer."

Helene nods. "Do-- would more of us delving help?"

"...possibly," Wynne hedges. "The final barrier in Miss Black's mind requires those that would pass the barrier to enact a minor offering of worship and sacrifice to a devil. It's in a Delve, so no-one will die, but it still empowers the devil involved. Which... is very strange, as the defenses are supposed to be primarily _against_ devils. Tying one to them seems... illogical."

"Human sacrifice?" Aveline snaps. "Are you- who would do that? What kind of person would use that as a shield?" she demands.

"Empowers a devil?" asks Helene, quietly.

"Yes. A... small amount, granted, as it is just... it takes the form of a sacrifice but as it's not real, the offering is only intent and pain, not a life or soul." Wynne raises her hand to stop Aveline. "Which does not make it neutral, much less good, I know. Still, weighed against the life of my patient, I cannot dismiss the idea out of hand."

"What if the sacrifice is willing?" Zevran asks tentatively.

"That lessens both the evil and the offering, yes, but it is still an evil deed," Aveline says tightly.

Helene raises their hand. "Excuse me, but-- this _empowers a devil_? Is that not suspicious?"

"Yes, as I said, given that Miss Black summons devils and thus created her defenses to prevent them from entrapment or otherwise-"

Zevran cuts Wynne off. "I think they mean because _Hawke was taken by a devil_."

The elder woman falls silent, both her and Aveline staring as the thought hits home.

Helene takes a deep breath. "The Invisible Butcher case is connected to Hawke's disappearance. Miss Black, this one recalls, was as well? And now there is an attempt to convince the people at Summerhill to make a human sacrifice to a devil. This seems to be suspicious. This one would advise against doing it, or allowing anyone else to."

"You think it might be the same devil? Doing... what? Toying with us?" Aveline asks, then frowns. "Zevran?"

The merikos drow has paled and his breathing quickened alarmingly.

Helene says nothing; instead, they reach for his hand, holding it firmly. _You are not alone._

Zevran grips their hand tightly and, after a moment, Aveline grips his shoulder. "Breath Zevran. Slow breaths. What's wrong?"

"Watching," he gasps out.

"Who is watching?"

"Hawke. Slave- torture. Breaking. Make- watch."

Helene frowns, then their eyes widen. "This is merely speculation. You don't know this for sure, Zevvy." They squeeze his hand tightly.

"What is he talking about?" Wynne asks quietly, not knowing Zevran as well as Helene or Aveline.

"He believes that Hawke is being made to watch your delve, in which you would appear to be making a human sacrifice, to convince her to... sacrifice herself to save you? So she would become a better slave?"

Zevran pulls Helene in closer, needing the comfort. "Make slave watch other slaves suffer. Torture heart," he adds, slowing getting control of his breathing again.

"Because nothing would hurt Hawke more than to watch her Clan suffer," Aveline murmurs, expression sickened.

Helene rests their head against his chest, breathing with him. "We must strive to do right. To seem happy. To trust each other." A pause. "To live the Clan values. Is that why?'

"Astea," Aveline breathes with awe. "Right. Of course. Zevran, can you and Helene spread the word as fast as you can? We need to get this out to everyone right away. Anyone and everyone that might even possibly count as Clan. Everyone start thinking of names so we can double check with each other."

"Yes. Yes," Zevran says carefully as he flexes his fingers into Helene's hair. "Thank you. I... that- that was- I haven't had a...thank you. I'm okay. We should get to Varric first, he can spread the word the best."

Helene nods, moving for the door -- tugging Zevran along in their wake. "Varric first."

"Right, in the meantime, I'll do what I can to prevent Wynne from being forced into doing anything... damaging," Aveline says, nodding at the human woman.

\---

"Morning Anders," Karl says brightly, scrubbing at his hair energetically with a towel as he answers the door to his room. "Sorry, running a bit late for breakfast this morning, just got out of the shower," he explains with a lopsided smile. He steps back to let Anders in his room, evidently unbothered by his lack of full attire. Specifically, that he's just wearing his trousers at the moment, bare chested and barefoot. He's not heavily muscled by any means, but there's a fair bit of definition to his chest and abs. No chest hair, no scars or marks of any kind in fact.

Anders swallows, taking in the sight, unable to tear his eyes away. Karl reminds him so much of Merith, back in the orphanage. So much of stolen kisses and tender, young sweetness, and dark, soulful eyes longing to be saved. Before Meri died and Anders aged out and everything was confusing and hard, all over. When things were simple and lovely.

"Morning," he says, shaking himself out of his reverie.

"Not awake yet?" Karl asks as he pads back to his bedroom. "You seem distracted." _Disgusting mortal._

"Just a bit. Long night." He rubs the back of his head. "Just showered?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I was a bit dirty," he says easily from the bedroom. _Thanks to a quick swipe of my hand in some dirt, an easy truth to create._ "What kept you up last night? Something good, I'd hope?" _Good for me anyway._

"Paperwork, I'm afraid." Anders leans against the doorway, unwilling to enter. _Stay professional._

"Sorry to make you wait," Karl says as he comes out combing his hair with his fingers. He's wearing shoes and a shirt, but the shirt is still unbuttoned.

"There's no rush," he says, with a faint smirk on his lips. "You have time to button."

"Hmm?" Karl glances down and flushes. "Oh, right. I was just..." He coughs and turns around to fix that. "Sorry if that... did that, uh, I know that some people are offended by..."

"No offense," he says, smiling. "But I didn't think you wanted to give the whole dining area a show. They're still reeling from last week when Mixy came to lunch without pants."

"Mixy is...?" Karl prompts Anders curiously.

"Oh, you've seen Mixy I'm sure. The elderly catfolk gentleman, ginger, going a little patchy?" He smirks.

"Not as much as you've seen evidently," Karl replies with a matching smirk. "Shame it was only last week and not a decade or so ago, yeah?" The young man looks awkward and wary for a moment. "Oh. I meant to ask- how often do we get mail in? From further out from Nyra, I mean."

"Once a week or so. We're well set up here, since we take so many deliveries." Healing supplies, mostly; while they're primarily self-sufficient from a food perspective, as Anders had designed, they'd be quite helpless after a couple weeks cut off from Nyra, as the more important tincture ingredients ran out and the incurables became rowdy. 

"Really? Huh, that's better than I might have thought," Karl says with some surprise. "Are there... what are the rules for sending or receiving mail?" he asks tentatively.

"Oh, you'll have no trouble. You're doing quite well here. If getting mail riles you up, or you start acting out, we'll talk things over, but I don't expect trouble from you."

"Nice that someone thinks so," Karl says under his breath, just barely audible to Anders. "Good, good. So... what do you have for plans today?"

"Oh, I figured I'd snag you for stillroom work again today. You were a deft hand with those tubers last time..."


	20. Temptations: Zevran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran loses something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra content notes for this chapter: kidnap, torture, tight spaces, rape. A recap will be provided at the end if you need to bail at any point.

Helene was sleeping, at least.

It had been over a week with no sign of this devil, not after Wynne had chased it away with help of The Doctor. Helene was beginning to worry that they'd been overly hasty in rejecting this opportunity. Now, they had no idea what the devil was up to, and they still didn't have Hawke. Helene had managed to obtain a promising lead on the whereabouts of this crypt, however; they had been all for going at once, but Zevran had insisted they sleep first, and these days, Helene was in the habit of obeying when Zevran demanded they sleep. They had returned back to their home, the place underground where they felt safe, and curled up in the bed, drifting off to sleep. Dreaming of Zevran.

They awoke to a hand over their mouth, pinching their nose shut.

They kicked, screamed, fought. To no avail. They could not breathe. They could not think. Soon, they were unconscious.

\---

The new part-time bouncer, T, wasn't the most intimidating hire Zevran had ever made, but she had a certain _je ne sais quoi_ that managed to intimidate even some of the larger men he'd seen her face off against. She'd been trying to convince him to let her tend bar, but he wasn't sure he wanted someone too young to be drinking tending bar.

She'd been trying to convince _herself_ to take up a position in the Back Room where the money was at, but he wasn't sure he wanted her to win that particular argument anytime soon.

Seeing her push her way into his office in the middle of her shift was jarring. Seeing her pale and sweating was worse.

"Report," he says crisply, hand closing over a graphite rod he uses for doing the accounting. _When did I pick that up from Aveline?_ a part of him wonders.

T shakes her head. She doesn't say anything; she can't. She's already peeked at what's inside the small cigar box she hands over. She hasn't read the note in the envelope atop it; she's not sure she'd be strong enough to. Not after seeing what's in there.

Zevran studies T a moment, then uses the rod to tip open the box. Stares a moment. "Run to Varric's office and tell him Helene has been taken," he says so very softly, eyes never leaving the small blue finger inside. "Stop for nothing. If he's not there, go to the main Coal guard station and ask for Andy la'Frane. Use my name. Run." Once she's gone, he takes a deep breath, then uses the rod to fish out the paper to read.

Not once in all of this does his expression or inflection so much as shiver.

\---

"no no no no no no no no no no no"

The mirror was _dark_. Why was the mirror _dark_ , now of all possible moments, was he controlling it, the sadistic freak, or did it mean they'd gotten away from him, maybe it only activated when he was around one of her Clan and now that he wasn't it was dark and that meant Helene was _safe_ but no, that's silly, she hadn't given him Helene's _name_ why hadn't she named the child the samasaran was one of her staunchest allies a great loyal person why did she leave her out

"no no no no no"

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Her breath was too fast. She knew her breath was coming far too fast, she'd hyperventilate and then she couldn't help anyone, but she couldn't help it, her feet kept moving, five paces up and five paces back, hands behind her back, and all that took _air_ and she couldn't get any and the room was so small surely he'd messed something up why wasn't there any _air_

" _no no no no no no no_ "

She just had to think. She had to think this through. She had to find a way out of this tiny room so she could protect Helene (murder him absolutely murder him) and hold them close and make everything okay again (nothing was ever going to be okay again) and protect them. That was the worst part: she was stuck in this _room_ and she wasn't there to _help_ and she would literally die for any of them, right now, her soul be damned (literally), if it meant he wouldn't have Helene, if it meant nobody had to be tortured.

" **Tentoplenumitaeziro!** "

She puts not only her panic and rage into his name, but also every ounce of magic she can summon up to her. The room is already as cold as a meat locker, cold as shaved ice in winter, but surely there's some way she can force her errant magic down a path of summoning rather than freezing. That's not how magic works, but magic has worked weirdly around her before, she's done the impossible before, surely, surely...?

But no-one comes. The devil doesn't appear in a fit of pique, he doesn't walk out of the mirror or suddenly appear when she turns (now!) or turns back (now! Now? Now!) or when she closes her eyes and opens them again. She's trapped. Powerless. Helpless. And there's these low moans, these distracting moans of horror, this whimpering, begging syllable over and over, who is making that noise, why can't they just shut up and let her think (now!) and solve this and find some way to get Helene back

" _no no no no no_ "

"I like the passion and intensity but 'yesyesyes' is so much nicer to the ear," a coy voice says from the other side of the door. "Wonder if whoever is making all that noise would like some company? Shame I can't just ask..."

"who's there?" She answers before she can think twice about it, her voice raspy, strained. "Tentoplenumitaeziro?" No, the voice was wrong. too feminine, for one.

"Oh! Did I hear someone speak? Shame that the only people in this hall are all protected from any kind of molestation without their consent. Why that even covers simple face to face conversation. Very strict, my host," the voice continues blithely.

"Moles--" _The lilin. Dammit._ "I give consent for a conversation, without touching," she says quickly.

The door clicks out to reveal a stunning elven woman with pale skin, dark red wine hair and large, innocent looking eyes. "Long time no see," the lilin says in a soft, breathy voice as she sways into the room to lean against the doorframe. She's wearing a flimsy sundress of soft cream colored cotton weave that covers her from collarbone to knees. Despite this, the way the soft fabric clings and drapes against her body is... it would be less provocative if she were simply naked.

Hawke has to swallow her desire, doing her best to quench the burning flame inside her. "Get me Tentoplenumitaeziro." She speaks clearly, firmly. _I have to put a stop to this._

"Really?" the lilin pouts, plump lips pursing as she stares at Hawke woefully. "You want that dried up stick? Am I not good enough? Is there s-something wrong with me, that makes me unworthy of kindness or even s-simple m-manners?" As she speaks, her eyes grow slightly cloudy, as if she's fighting off tears.

"Shut up," she snaps, a surge of anger rocking through her. "You're not Merrill. You're not even a person!" She has to take a deep breath, then another, to calm herself. It's hard; she feels cruel, for snapping at what is so clearly an innocent, crying young woman. Her heart yearns to comfort the elf. But no -- it's a devil, a lilin. Not a person at all. The old fear rises up in her, fueling her anger, even as she feels guilty for it.

"Of course I'm a person. But my name is Verriline," the female says with a sniff, glancing aside to hide the hint of hurt in her eyes at Hawke's reaction. "Look, you sounded hurt and I just wanted to... but if you want me to leave..."

Her hand balls into a fist. "Shut up! I don't have time for this!" She takes a deep, ragged breath. "I have to- I have to speak to him. My _friend_ is in _trouble_ , not that I expect you to understand that."

"I think I'm more familiar with them than you might think," Verriline says with a smooth and flowing shrug. "But whatever do you need our oh so very busy host for? Is there nothing I could do for you?"

"no," she growls. "I don't need you. I need him." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. _I can't believe I'm... I'm even considering.._ "What would it take for you to fetch him?"

Her eyes widen and her pout shifts to a shy smile. "Well... asking nicely would be a good start..."

"Please," she murmurs, and her voice cracks, the anger giving way to sick dread. "Please."

"Hmmm, better," Verriline says slowly. "Not very good, but better." She slowly moves over to the bed and takes a seat, crossing her legs in a languid motion that shows just a flash of calf. "Now... you wanted me? For something?"

"I need to speak to Tentoplenumitaeziro," she whispers. "I need you to bring him here so I can speak with him."

"Hmmm. Well, as I said, our host is very, very busy. It won't be easy to track him down and convince him to speak with you... plus he'll be all grouchy and upset I was even talking to you!" Verriline clucks her tongue as she shakes her head slowly. Adopting a thoughtful expression, she leans back on her hands, though she's too practiced to be so blatant as to arch her back out.

Hawke swallows, unable to tear her eyes away. "What do you want in exchange?" she whispers.

"Hmmmm. Well... I could _want_ a lot of things," Verriline says softly, eyes meeting Hawke's. "What will you offer? Will price will you pay to get that talk with our host you so deeply _yearn_ for?"

She _knows_. As she meets the Lilin's eyes, she knows what she wants, what she has to offer. Her stomach churns with sick dread, and for a moment she freezes -- both figuratively and literally, unmoving and unbreathing while frost forms over her boots.

Then she pictures Helene, tied up and helpless, in the clutches of a devil.

"Alright," she whispers. "In exchange for fetching him... a kiss. Elven-style."

"Hmmm," Verriline says in considering manner, tongue slipping out to wet her lips. "I did enjoy our last kiss... but you gave me that one for free so it clearly isn't worth much. Unless you're thinking..." Her gaze slowly winds its way down Hawke's body, the sensation a nearly tangible caress, over her breasts, skimming the twisting ball of shame and warmth in her gut, then coming to linger on her pelvis before flicking back up to her eyes.

_No no no no no no no no no_ Hawke shoves the screaming down and away, locking it up with the sick dread in her gut as she focuses. _Helene. Focus on Helene. This is for Helene. Would you rather Helene go through this? No? Then put up with it._ She closes her eyes, shoulders sagging in defeat. "In exchange, you may apply your lips to my... anywhere you wish, for no more than two minutes." Her voice is a whisper.

Verriline's smiles broadens, even as her mind races. _Damn you Tentoplenumitaeziro! If you hadn't ordered me specifically not to fuck her, then I'd have been able to get a bargain so much more delicious. I could have easily laid the foundation for her utter corruption but no, you have to be such a fucking stickler for- urrggh. Is giving oral sex too close to what I was forbidden? With a mortal involved, it comes down in no small part to her consideration of the wording so... no, can't risk it. I'll have to... yes, that'll work._ "We're not males my dear Hawke, two minutes is just too little time to really... get in the mood. Twenty minutes of me touching you with my hands anywhere I like," she counters. _There. Increase the time by a large factor to hide that I have restrictions, make it look like I'm trading away some of great value for more time._

"Ten," she snaps, panic bubbling up to the surface in her. _Don't think of green eyes, of teeth and claws._

"Ten? Such a rush... For ten, I want to be able to use massage oil- and my tail." Verriline winks a little as the tip of her tail, a classic 'spade' shape, peeks out from her dress- consequently revealing her legs up to her knees.

Hawke freezes, remembering a tail, touching her, caressing her. _andy think of andy it's just like andy_ "Agreed," she whispers. _the only way to make this end is to let it begin._

_Damn. I was hoping to get more time or a toy or two in exchange for no penetration. Oh well. This does mean she's either more desperate than I realized... or more ripe._ "Disrobe... then lay down on the bed. I'll be back in a moment with the oil and a sandglass. The clock doesn't start until I touch you." As she gives Hawke her orders, the lilin rises to leave the room.

Some part of Hawke, some small, traitorous part, leads her to the bed. She bows her head, hands shaking, face pale, but she pictures Helene and disrobes with mercenary efficiency.

The air is cold against her naked skin, making her feel more naked than ever before. She's never felt so small and naked in front of Zevran, or Merrill. She was always nude, gloriously nude, at home in her own skin and loving it. With Rosemary, she was never like this either; she kept her clothing on as much as she could, and Rosemary was fond of tearing it off her whenever it got in her way. But now, like this, having to remove her clothing, she feels small, ashamed, frightened. And cold. So bitterly, bitterly cold. A kind of cold that holds no comfort in it, for all that it came from inside her. Her nipples stand erect, helpless to protect her from the chill, her hands shaking violently, her stomach churning. Idly she wonders if she throws up, if it will put off steam into the air as her breath does.

She moves to the bed, hating that she takes after her elven side for the first time in her life. If she had more body fat, more hair, she might feel some measure of warmth or protection, but there's nothing to hide her, nothing to keep her hidden and private from the frozen air.

She lays down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. _Ten minutes. I can stand anything for ten minutes._

The lilin returns in a swirl of warm air and sandalwood scent. "Oh my," Verriline murmurs, slowing to take Hawke appearance in. Her eyes are hot and hungry as she slowly looks Hawke over from head to toe. "How very lovely. Your skin, so pale and firm, each scar a badge of honor. Your stomach, lean and taut." As she speaks, she sets a dozen scented candles around the room, giving the place a pleasing, intimate feel.

That done, she moves to sit on the edge of the bed, that deep, luxurious warmth coming with her. Verriline is careful to avoid touching Hawke yet as she studies the merikos elf. "And those nipples... I'm pleased to see you're looking forward to this, at least a little," she adds slyly, ignoring the cold. Leaning in, she whispers, "any requests for how I start?"

_I'm not looking forward to this. I'm not. It's biology. The room is cold. Frozen solid._

_(you've never felt the cold before, not when it's your cold)_

_it's **biology**. I'm naked and afraid and _

_(then why are you wet?)_

_It's **biology**. I'm afraid. _

Hawke says nothing, pulling away from her body, into her head as best she can, trying to pretend she can't feel every stirring of warm air through the frozen room.

Verriline clucks her tongue playfully. "Nothing? Aww, are you shy?" she says teasingly. "What fun... I wouldn't have expected that from the Champion of Coalside, a Light of Nyra and the Beloved of Astea herself!" The lilin continues to study Hawke's body shamelessly, drinking in every inch of her. After almost a good solid minute of that, she sighs and rises to her feet.

_Beloved of Astea. Champion of Coalside._ The words taste like bile in her throat. _Waiting meekly to be raped by a devil, having sold her soul to another._ Hearing her move, Hawke can't help it: she cracks open an eye. "What--"

Just in time to see the Verriline slowly peeling her dress down her body to reveal every glorious inch of flesh that had been so poorly hidden- and so wonderfully teased at- before. Her breasts are firm and heavy, slightly tear-drop shaped with a dark red nipple, both of which have metal studs going through them vertically. She stands up, causing her breasts to sway gently as she finishes slipping the dress off to reveal her lightly glistening slit. It's bare as well, aside from a third bar going through her clit horizontally.

There's not a single flaw or mark anywhere on her that looks out of place. None at all if you discount the piercings, the tiny mole a few inches above the crease of her left thigh. Verriline turns to hang the dress on the knob of the wardrobe, showing off her incredible hips and bum, easily the match for Estelle or Isabela. The tail, heavy and black, juts out from her basebone. It bounces jaunting as if to give her balance until she's turned around, which is when it curls down to slip between her cheeks as if to highlight each perfectly symmetrical globe.

Turning back, she picks up a small glass bottle and looks at Hawke.

Hawke swallows, her hands trembling against the bedclothes. She closes her eye again, but it's too late -- the sight of her, every glorious inch of her, will be burned into her memory for years to come.

Verriline laughs softly as she steps back over to the bed and sinks down. "Why thank you for the lovely compliment," she purrs a scant inch from Hawke's ear, her breath tickling along the mortal's flesh.

_It's just ten minutes,_ Hawke tells herself, swallowing again. _It's only ten minutes. You can handle this. Don't give her what she wants, don't react, don't make a sound. Just lay here, think of anything else, for ten minutes. You can handle ten minutes. It'll all be over soon._

The bed shifts again as the lilin leans back. _Hmmm, more willpower than I would hope. Ah well... let's get to the next step._ "However... I was actually thinking I'd start with your back," she informs Hawke. "And then grip the headboard, with your ankles two feet apart."

_With... with my back. Grip the headboard._ She's starting to move before she realizes it, that traitor part of her obeying orders without question, just as it did for-- _don't, you'll throw up, don't_ \-- Zevran in the occasions when they've played games with rope _(better)_. She buries her head against the meager pillow, grabbing the headboard, spreading her legs.

"Very good, my sweetling," the lilin croons. "Very obedient... almost... _eager_." Letting out a darkly seductive laugh, the devil shifts again, causing the bed to rock and the rough sheets to rub against her oh-so sensitive skin. "You never did answer me you know- how should I start? Do you prefer to tease and build, winding your way down the river until you reach the ocean? Or do you like to go right for the sky, racing and fighting against gravity? Or... perhaps you like to crawl over rock and dirt, begging for salvation to be granted by a merciful goddess?"

Hawke's breathing speeds up, and she twitches at the end. It's not the begging -- she twitches at the mention of a goddess. _Astea! no, please, don't let her see this. What I've become. What I'm becoming._

_Damn, that was a misplay. That's just going to snap her out of the mood._ "Hmmm... nothing? Very well, I guess I'll just have to... make. do. as. best. I. can." With each of the last words, Hawke feel tiny drops of some kind of delightfully warm liquid dripping down onto her along her spine.

_Oh, that's... warm. Warmer than I was expecting._ Maybe it's because she's so very cold, but the warmth seems to seep into her skin, spreading out along her back, lulling her muscles to relax where it touches.

"Hmmm... how does that feel? Nice, I hope. Because I do hope this isn't too bad for you. I know it's not... entirely your choice, what we're doing," Verriline says gently, a few more drops of the oil raining down on her back, her buttocks, her thighs. "I wish we could have met in a better way. I wish we could have... nevermind, I should get started," she says with a wistful sight.

Strong fingers, warm skin, sure touches. Verriline starts with Hawke's shoulders, each slender finger gently slicking over her back with broad strokes in order to spread the oil out. The oil, her hands... they're warm and soothing, each pass leaving her skin tingling faintly, each press causing her muscles to quiver and loosen. As her muscles relax, Hawke finds her mind slowly loosening up as well. Her shoulders untense without Verriline touching them; she lets out a low, soft moan, before she's realized she has. She's distracted, it seems, by the secondary warmth: the one spreading from deep in her belly outward, a tendril of which reaches right for her loins and grabs hold. With her face pressed into the pillow, she can picture Seli's fingers, rather than... than...

"There we go," Verriline murmurs gently. "Just relax a little. I'm not going to hurt you, that's not what I am. I was created to please mortals. It's been... hard, knowing you were in here alone these last few weeks. Not as hard as it's been on you, of course, but... no-one should be alone." She starts to knead along Hawke's arms. When she goes for the arm on the other side of Hawke, the mortal can feel Verriline's long hair tickling along her bare back. "Is this too hard? Too soft?"

_To please mortals... is it so wrong, really?_ Hawke asks herself.

_"In almost any other circumstances, fucking a lilin would have ended with you being scarred for life at best!"_ She tenses again, recalling the look on her Papa's face. _"It would be... a frankly ludicrous series of events that would require you to voluntarily fuck a sceleratis for some kind of good reason." This is a ludicrous series of events, but I need to keep in mind, she's still a sceleratis. She's still.._

_But it... it feels so good._

"Shhhh," Verriline murmurs. "Isn't this better than being alone? I know it's not what you really want... I never am. But it's better than an empty room, isn't it?" she asks, hand moving back up Hawke's arm to her neck, then down her back. "Being touched... being together. Being cared for and tended. Isn't this better than that empty feeling?"

_Being cared for... being loved, even only in the physical sense. Silence has been a comfort but this is... this is what I've been crying into my pillow missing at night._ She lets out a soft whimper.

"There you go," the woman says gently, voice a soft caress just as caring as those hands on her skin. "It's okay. You can let go, just for a little while. Let me fill that hole in you, let me give what comfort a wretch like me can offer." Those wonderful, skilled, warm hands slide their away down her back. Swirls and circles, each movement flawless and without hesitation. "You feel so nice... I... I didn't think I'd enjoy this so much. I... I don't. Enjoy it, I mean. Not always. But this... this is nice," Verriline confesses softly as her fingers begin to brush against the swell of Hawke's bum.

She lets out another whimper. _This is nice... I feel so warm, so floaty. I feel like... like it's with Zevran._

"Is this okay?" Verriline whispers in Hawke's ear, her lips just a hair away from her flesh. "Harder, softer?"

"More," she whimpers. "Touch me."

_"What would that **accomplish**?"_

"Of course," the kind voice says gently. "Of course... everyone deserves to be touched." Leaning back, those incredible hands continue their work with a bit more force. And then one of them ghosts over Hawke's skin to rest on Hawke's bum where it begins to knead and stroke. "Everyone deserves comfort and touch. Each and every one of us."

Slowly, she manages to strangle and choke off the part of herself that rails, gnashes, weeps. The part of her that holds her papa's words close. She lets out a soft moan, letting the pleasure fill her, letting herself relax into it.

"There we go. Just let it be good. I'm make sure it's good." Verriline shifts her wings slipping out to allow her to almost hover over Hawke so she can use both hands in mirrored unison. She pays noticeable attention to Hawke's bum, of course, but she does make her way down Hawke's legs. _Six minutes left... and she's already decided to accept the pleasure. It won't last, but... a very good first step._ "How are you feeling, Hawke?"

"Good," she sighs. Her voice is... flat. Quiet. Meek.

"I'm pleased," Verriline says with honest pride and happiness. She works her way back up Hawke's body, this time paying more attention to the sides of her body. As she does so, Hawke can feel a third touch along the inside of her legs. "Tell me what you like, Hawke."

"Please," she whispers, her voice still distant, broken. "Fuck me." She can't feel anything but pleasure. She can't think of anything but pleasure. She can't feel anything.

"Really?" Verriline asks softly. "You... you want me? Want me to touch you more? My body against yours, our limbs entwined?" A soft but rigid bit of warm flesh slides against Hawke's inner thigh, then gently rubs against the base of her cleft. "Do you want me to kiss you? To taste you?"

_No, no. I -- no,_ some part of her whimpers, surging upward. She stuffs it down again, swallowing the whimper inside her.

"Hawke..." Verriline whispers. "Please... please... do you want me? Do you want to be with me?" Her voice sounds pleading, lonely and hurting. Her tails moves further up, the length of it rubbing slowly between Hawke's lips as her hands skim over his ribs. "Please Hawke... please..."

She cries out, wriggling a little against the tail. She aches, throbs, with sheer need. But she can't-- she can't quite-- Hawke closes her eyes, pictures Estelle's pouting lips, the hurt look on her face. "Yes," she whispers.

_Gotcha.My skin, I feel so alive, more, please, more, I need it--_

Eventually the lilin pulls back, her expression dismayed and reluctance. "I'm sorry... I can't," she says with true regret. "I can't. Tentoplenumitaeziro won't allow us. This, I mean. Won't allow..." There's a soft chiming noise and she stills. "Twenty seconds left," she murmurs with poorly hidden longing.

Now, _now_ , Hawke writhes and wriggles on the bed, as if desperate to get free. "No, no," she moans, begging, pleading. "Please, please I need-- please," she whimpers.

"Turn over," Verriline says urgently, pulling out of the way. "Quickly."

Hawke doesn't think twice; she obeys, rolling onto her back. Verriline grabs Hawke's hand, guiding it down to the mortal's cleft, pressing Hawke's own fingers against the nub. She pulls her hand away just as the chime sounds again. "Press," she orders, her hands gripping her own breasts as her tail, still slick with Hawke's juices, slides deeply into her center, wanting to give the illusion she isn't allowed to touch Hawke anymore now that the timer has rung. "Press now Hawke!"

Hawke presses, firmly, arching her back, gasping for breath as the familiar waves of sensation crash over her. Only -- stronger, more intense, than ever before. She can't think; she can barely breathe. All she knows for a long moment is _pleasure_ , so intense it leaves no room inside her for anything else.

When she comes back to herself, the room is dark, cold, empty. There's ice everywhere, sheets of ice, she's laying on a blanket of frost. The room is silent. She is alone, naked, and afraid. 

\---

When Varric arrives at Voice less than ten minutes after T leaves to get him, it's with Isabela only a few paces behind him. The pair head right up to Zevran's office, where the merikos drow is staring at the note. He doesn't say a word, just uses the graphite rod to turn it around so they can read it.

Given the girl had originally said little more than 'come quick, it's an emergency, Zevran needs you', Isabela is relieved beyond reason to discover that Zevran is alive and... well, physically unharmed. Varric had managed to get something about a blue person and a note out of her on the way back; she can imagine what the little box in his other hand, the one he doesn't offer to show them, contains. She's seen this sort of thing before.

The note is... creative, to say the least:

I don't like to waste time, so I'll lay it out plain  
If you ever wish to see 'This one' again  
Morrigan Black shall be released from her cell  
due to her soul's escaping its shell.  
Make it quick, and make it clear who to thank;  
an innocent for an innocent if I must be frank  
The longer you take, the more impatient I'll get.  
Let's see if you recall how to be a good pet

"Meter's a bit off," Varric finds himself commenting after finishing "And who rhymes-" He cuts himself off as he notices Zevran's hand curling into a fist. "Sorry. Defense mechanism." He takes a deep breath. "You can't do this," he says bluntly.

"I won't just let Hele-"

"You _can't_ do this," Varric snaps. "It's not just you that'll suffer but by the gods that's enough of a reason. It's a sceleratis, do you really think it'll give Helene back just because you did this? Use your fucking head, Zevran! We need to rescue them, not depend on the fairness and good-nature of an incarnation of sodding evil. We find Helene and save them. We don't trade you- and Hawke- for them. Remember... it'll be trying to watch. To make _Hawke_ watch."

"Why point out she's innocent?" adds Isabela. "She could easily be in league with the devil, but it wanted you to know she's innocent."

Varric pauses. "That's... huh. I was thinking it meant Zevran- the line about 'make it clear who to thank' made me think Zevran had to let himself be caught. But... shit. Your interpretation could be right too. That line could mean to make sure _Black_ knows why she's dying."

Zevran doesn't say anything, just studies the small box in his hand.

"Which might matter if we're talking about souls being claimed after death," says Isabela slowly, as she puzzles through it. She reaches a hand to the small of Zevran's back as she thinks. She doesn't want to dwell on what's happened, at least that part of it. But if she can offer some small support, she will. "What we do really depends on what it wants. And what kind of beastie it is. Ordered evil -- it might keep its word? But we'd probably get them back dead. Do we think we could bring them back if that happened? It might be the fastest route. Wait, no, samsarans do that weird reincarnation thing, nevermind."

"It'd still work," Varric says absently. "I looked it up when... because I do that sort of thing really. Somehow, Mileen knows if they'll be resurrected and won't reincarnate them. Because gods are bullshit." Somehow, he manages to make that both scornful _and_ respectful.

"If it works," Zevran finally says in an empty whisper. "Not everyone is allowed to..."

"Yeah. Well, Helene is... pretty damn special. Other than Hawke and Aveline, they'd have the best chance of getting approved for that out of the Clan," Varric says softly. "But... but first, we should try and figure out where they've been taken."

"Right," agrees Isabela. "We've got Guard resources, we've got the Mabari, we've got stuff of theirs we can track -- where were they last known to be?"

"...researching?" Zevran offers. "Or... maybe home. Near the wall," he adds, glancing at Isabela.

"I can follow up on the first, hit up the temple and ask around. I'd arranged for a meet with Cobble earlier today, so seeing if they made or missed that will narrow things down," Varric supplies.

"Then we'll check their home." Isabela nods. "And take one of the mabari with us, in case there's a scent trail or anything. You should too. Or bring Aveline and Beka both?"

"Right. I-"

Zevran cuts Varric off with, "we can't tell Aveline about this. Not unless we're sure we can rescue Helene. If I have to kill Black, better to make sure-"

"We understand that we need to hold fast to Honesty/Openness/Trust and what they represent. We have to continue to depend on each other and hold true to not just the words, but the spirit of them. To the love and goodness that Hawke is to us," Varric says softly, not overriding Zevran's own words, but just speaking softly and using how deeply this was etched into their souls silence the merikos drow. "We have to trust each other. We have to be honest, share our worries, fears and plans. We have to."

Isabela nods. "This is what Astea told us to do," she reminds him. "Hold fast to the clan words. We don't hide anything. If you have to kill Black, we'll trust her to understand."

Zevran gives Isabela a 'are you serious look' but it falters before it even finishes setting on his face. "...alright Alright. I'll... I'll stay here. Just in case."

"Right. Isabela can grab Aveline and Beka, I'll swing by H- Merrill's place to grab Silence before trying to back-track Helene. Met back here at second bell," Varric says firmly.

"Good. Alright. Let's do it."

\---

Hawke lays atop the coverlet, staring at the ceiling. She hasn't bothered to put her clothes back on. Who would even see her? It's cold. She ought to care about that, but she just doesn't. She just can't.

A warm furry body atop hers, a tongue on her cheek, brings her some comfort. Silence. She has to get back up for Silence. She feels empty, bereft. She wants nothing more than she wants to be touched again, to be held, to be caressed. The brief moment of connection causes the emptiness and loneliness to feel all the worse.

Silence whines softly, then sits up. _Winter Alpha is heart sick. Need mates, need sire. Can't find. So... so..._ Unfortunately, mabari or not, magical or not, Silence is still just a beast. She can't come up with a moving speech or plan a touching gesture. What she can do, however, is not give up on her pack. Inhaling deeply, the mabari beings to howl plaintively, determined to make Hawke react.

Hawke gives Silence a pat, absently. "It's alright," she whispers, unconvincingly. "I did-- I did this for a reason." It's hard to remember, hard to think past the cold and the aching yearning for touch, but for Silence, for her Clan, she tries. "I did this for Helene."

_Helene... I have to save them. When he gets here - which should be soon - I'll want to name them as the next name. That protects them from kidnapping, harm, coercion... Coercion. This is coercion of the finest order, isn't it? Kidnapping. Blackmail._

Silence gratefully goes quiet, always uncomfortable and nervous about making too much noise. She burrows against Hawke, then lightly grabs her by the wrist to try and tug her off the bed.

Hawke lets the wrist go limp, letting Silence tug on it for a long moment before she turns her head. "Why? There's no point getting up."

Silence huffs, then letting Hawke's wrist go so she can fetch her trousers. She drops them on the bed and stares at Hawke insistently. _Put your furs on. Unsafe. Cold. Danger._

Hawke stares at the trousers for a long moment. _It will make Silence happy_. That's really all it takes -- she pulls the trousers on slowly, begrudgingly, but she does.

Silence quickly fetches the rest of Hawke's clothing, taking time to give nuzzles and licks in between deliveries. Once Hawke is dressed, the mabari climbs into the bed and sits behind Hawke, touching her closing, but preventing her from laying back down. Pushy thing today... This is Merrill level fussing at it's finest.

Hawke dresses slowly, like she's moving through molasses. _It could work. If I claim the contract was breached... worst case I still have to name Helene. But if I can spare them any part of... anything of..._

It's a little while after Hawke finishes dressing, Silence quiet again as she rests her head over Hawke's shoulder, when the mabari growls softly and tenses. When Hawke focuses on the world outside her head she sees Tentoplenumitaeziro glaring down at her. Behind him is the... is Verriline, her expression guarded and yet... and yet there's just a hint of warmth, of concern in those wide, alluring eyes.

"What?" the devil snaps. "I will not tolerate you trying to interfere in our wager by constantly bleating for my attention."

"You're in breach of contract," she mutters into Silence's fur. _No, do it right._ She lifts her head, meeting his eyes. "You violated the terms."

Both devils go utterly still.

"You **dare** accuse **me** of breaking a deal?"

Ah... shite. That seems to have... Tentoplenumitaeziro is _livid._

"You're coercing Zevran emotionally," she says, clinging to the mabari for comfort. Her voice is small, but steady. "We agreed no base coercion."

"I can't hurt, threaten, or kidnap them, I have to get them to accept honestly," Tentoplenumitaeziro snaps back, all but the first person pronouns in a perfect imitation of Hawke's own voice. "I have done none of those."

"You're hurting his heart. It's painful to think of loved ones being injured. And you're threatening further heart-pain via harming his loved one."

"I'm tempting them, there has to be some element of harm, that's a given," the devil snaps. "Emotions are just fluff anyway, they count for less than breath." Behind Tentoplenumitaeziro, Verrline tries to catch Hawke's eye without giving that action away.

"They count for more than you know," she grumbles. "Minor hurts, like being betrayed by a devil, are what they are, but this could scar someone for life. That's real, honest damage. If you don't believe me, ask anyone. Ask her." She nods at Verrline.

"I should ask her for her opinion?" Tentoplenumitaeziro asks, a flash of satisfaction quickly covered by disdain. "A lilin slut? Truly?"

"If even other devils agree, you're definitely in the wrong," she points out.

"Then I accept your request for arbitration and approve of your choice of..." Tentoplenumitaeziro savors the next word, " _neutral_ third party. And of course, as such, we must both accept her word as final in this matter, in addition to the penalty she decides it commensurate with the accusation."

"In the matter of whether you have breached the agreement, yes." Hawke nods. _If he hasn't, I'll name Helene as the next person. One way or another, this stops now._

"A bit late to try and be clever, little mortal," the male devil says with relish as he turns to the lilin. "Well? What is your verdict and her penalty."

"Well, as a _slut_ lilin," Verriline says sweetly, causing the contract devil to tense a little, "I have found that emotions are a vital part of mortals, one that has both good and bad. Its as much a part of them as any limb or organ and can very much be damaged. So... I find in favor of Hawke."

"What! How dare you-"

"Follow the All-Mother of Dusk's teachings? Or act as arbiter under the edict of-" Hawke can't hear the following word/sound, just a spike of some unknowable-

"Fine. What is the penalty?" Tentoplenumitaeziro says quickly, clearly cowed by Verriline's comment. What was her comment? She'd said something... about... edicts? Must not have been too important.

"Well... first, I must ask Hawke if she wishes to negate the deal in question- the _wager_ ," Verriline points out. "Or if she merely wishes to call you in as having defaulted on this task of it."

"If I negate the wager, that doesn't mean winning it, right? It's like we never made it?" At the lilin's nod, she continues. "Then, this task only. You've already coerced Zevran, so I can replace his name with another and we can move forward."

"That is an option yes. You can declare your Zevran to be void in this wager, giving a new name in his place to be tempted and get a concession in addition to Tentoplenumitaeziro's penalty for losing the arbitration. Or you can simply take it as a win, moving you one soul closer to your freedom," Verriline explains.

Hawke stares at her, thinking hard. _I could be a week closer to being free. To going home. To getting out of here. But... another concession. Another advantage, when I could use all the advantages I can get. Or, I could ask for more. I could protect people longer. I'm... I'm probably not going to grow old, after all._ "The former," she says quietly. "As a replacement, I name Helene-who-was-Dakesh. And as a concession, I want to increase the prize for winning: if I win, he cannot go near Nyra as long as any member of Clan Tethras resides therein."

Verrline considers that for a moment, then shakes her head. "Current member of your Clan maybe, but with that wording, you could simply name someone Clan in each generation or adopt in a dragon or something. Far too long. But extending his ban to the duration of the lifespans off all current, living members of your Clan would be fair."

Tentoplenumitaeziro considers that for a moment, then nods curtly.

"Very well then. Is that acceptable to you as well Hawke?"

"Agreed," she says quietly. _We'll just have to make Merrill immortal._

"Then the penalty for break of contract is paid," Verriline says firmly. "As for my tribute for acting as Arbiter ..." She smirks broadly, getting an glare from her 'peer' in return. What comes next is a good twenty seconds of infernal from the lilin.

Then a reply in the same tongue from Tentoplenumitaeziro. This continues for almost a minute more, then finally, the contract devil nods curtly, then vanishes.

"...well. That... was a bit tense," she says with a slow exhale. "Well done, Hawke," she adds, smiling at the mortal.

"Thanks," she says automatically. "can I... Can I know what you won?"

"Sure," the lilin says easily. "I only used infernal because the words are more... detailed. Cuts down on interpretation issues and the like. Basically, I now have permission to visit you whenever I want and some other freedoms. Well, for as long as Tentoplenumitaeziro allows. Or... if you allow it, after you're free," Verrilline explains, glancing away for a moment. "I have two... jobs," she swallows gamely, "I need to finish for him before I can leave and... it'll be nice to have someone I can relax around. Lilin are very social and his minions are..." She searches for the right word. "Not to my taste, to put it lightly."

"I understand," whispers Hawke, hugging Silence close. "You... will visit me? While I'm stuck here?"

Verrline smiles warmly. "You couldn't keep me away," she promises. "You're much better company than anyone else here. If nothing else, you don't reek of brimstone, blood or dust." Silence watches the lilin with a stoney glare, clearly not as trusting as her mistress. "And... I'm actually not really doing much right now if..."

_No, you shouldn't,_ some part of her whimpers. But... it's not a loud part. It's been weeks since she was around Clan. And Verrline is nothing to be afraid of, not really. "Yes," she whispers.

The lilin beams at Hawke and steps towards the bed, only to pause when Silence growls warningly. "She's... very protective," Verriline. says with a laugh. "Is there something I should do to... introduce myself?"

"Down," says Hawke to her mabari. "Safe." _(what are you doing. Not safe. not safe at all. Devil. Remember? Devil.)_

Silence gives her- both of them- a wary look, sniffing at Hawke carefully, before finally settling back. She does not, however, move away from Hawke. Blushing faintly, Verrillne takes a seat on the other end of the bed. "So... tell me about yourself? Just... something silly and mortal." She says that last sentence with a funny kind of longing, well hidden under simple curiosity.

Hawke gives a bitter laugh. "There's not a lot of silly mortal things on my mind right now. I-- I'm so glad Helene is safe now, I suppose. That's not silly, but-- thank you, for that. For helping."

The woman ducks her head. "I just... well, I can't say I wasn't thinking about what I could get from our host. I... our... last encounter is one of my better memories. Being able to repeat it, more to just... connect with you..." She takes a deep breath, that damned cotton dress, today a rich purple, straining as her bosom lifts. "But I'm glad I could help you. And your Helene. Is... is there something I can do for you? To repay you for giving me this chance? Something small, obviously, I can't do much here. But... I might be able to find a book or... perhaps some wine? Something to help make this easier on you?"

"A book, Astea, I would love a book," she groans. "It's so dull here sometimes, waiting for that mirror to light up."

Carefully hiding the wince that name brings, the lilin nods slowly. "I think I can do that. It, ah, it won't be... very... high on morality," she cautions Hawke. "The libraries here are not exactly... pure. But I can find something that's on the lighter side I'm sure. But for now... I don't really have anything planed for at least a day or two and I was honest about really wanting to talk to you. It's not often I'm given the chance to just... talk with a mortal. Or anyone really."

"Why don't I tell you about Helene?" Hawke says, smiling faintly at her new friend.

\---

Hawke speaks of her Clan, unwittingly handing Varraline the keys to her heart, for some hours. Before too long, she's falling asleep, half-curled around the lilin as though she would protect her from her host's wrath. Her brow wrinkled, the half-elf sleeps in only her underthings, one hand holding a fist of blankets tightly as she frets in her sleep.

She won't stay asleep long. It's too much to hope she'd sleep through the night. But the few hours she'll be asleep are more than enough for the lilin's plans...Silence does her best, but she's just a mabari. It's late and she's been on watch for days, high alert for hours. So when Verriline casts as sleep spell, it takes the first try. Lifting the canine out of the way, the lilin looks down at Hawke with a satisfied smile. _So very innocent, despite your lusts. Heart so big and bleeding, my talons are just... sliding right in._

Humming softly to herself, she retrieves a bottle of massage oil Hawke gave her permission to use on her and dabs a little bit on some vital spots- base of the throat, each wrist, nippes, clit, anus, backs of the knees and then just a quick swipe over the outside of her lips. Tasteless, odorless and oh so very potent, this variation has a little something extra to it... Quickly tucking that away, she wraps herself back around Hawke and pretends to sleep again. _Your move, little bird._

It doesn't take long. Hawke's brow furrows a little further, and she clutches the blanket a little tighter. There's a small, strangled noise in the back of her throat. Then, ever so gently, she rubs her thighs together.

Soon, her head lolls to one side, her teeth in her lower lip. She nestles closer to Varraline, letting out a gutteral whimper. Finally, as she draws near to waking, she whimpers, "'veline... Please..."

Verriline's lips curve slightly as she presses tighter against Hawke's back. "Hmmm... Hawke," she breaths out softly, still pretending to sleep. Her right hand, currently pressed against Hawke's stomach, flexes slightly, nails scraping lightly across her flesh.

Her lips part, her back arching slightly, as she groans with lust. "Please," she whimpers, her eyes fluttering open. "A-- Verriline?"

The lilin presses back against Hawke, a gasp slipping from her lips. "H-Hawke?" she calls out in a confused tone even as her tail curls up to twitch against the underside of Hawke's breasts. _Come on... take the first step. Take it..._

Hawke rolls over, then, pressing the lilin down into the pillow as she covers her mouth with her own, her need making her forceful, dominating. Commanding.

_Yes!_ Verriline lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper and goes still for just a moment. Tentatively, she places her hands on Hawke's back, her tail wrapping around one leg so the tip flicks back and forth against her inner thigh just a bare half inch short. Hawke thrusts her tongue into Verriline's mouth, pressing her hips against the lilin's urgently, desperately clinging, digging her fingers into the lilin's upper arms almost painfully tight. Letting out another soft whine, the lilin kisses back timidly, trying to keep just past that fine line of hesitant and resisting. She lifts her left leg, just a little, just enough to let Hawke force her own leg in between so they're flush against each other. As Verriline's skin brushes against each drop of oil, the mortla's nerves flare and burn with incredible pleasure. Of course, it's a sceleratian potion, so the gift is double-edged. Despite the heights Hawke is reaching, this variation of oil causes the peak to rise only a touch slower than Hawke's pleasure.

Hawke thrusts her pelvis against Varriline's leg, hungrily, keeping her mouth against the lilin's, desperately seeking her own pleasure, her own gratification. Hungry, frantic, she thrusts until, with a moan and a whimper, she comes against the devil's leg, collapsing spent onto her chest as she gasps for breath.

As Hawke finally gets control of her breathing, she feels a gentle touch brush a lock of hair out of her face. "Are... do you need more of me?" Verrline whispers, voice empty and face blank. Her gaze is locked somewhere just off to the side of Hawke's eyes and as she finishes speaking, Hawke can feel a faint tremble.

_do I need-- Varraline? What.. what am I doing? What have I done?_ Hawke scrambles off the lilin in a hurry, landing on her ass as she stares up at the bed in horror. "I-- I didn't-- I--" she whimpers. No, this is wrong. This is -- what have I done? I didn't behave this way even on the sap Raplin gave me. _Is this.... is it because my soul is..._ "I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"Hawke, Hawke," Verriline says urgently, sitting up in the bed and starting to reach for Hawke before hesitating. "Are- are you alright?" she asks carefully. "It's me, Verriline." She offers a wavering smile. "Your... friend?" she adds, voice soft and somewhat timid.

"I-- I don't -- I must be having a flashback. This must be-- I'm so sorry, I'm not, I didn't mean to--" Her breathing speeds up, her chest rising and falling with alarm rapidity.

"No Hawke, this is real. This is real. I'm sorry, but-" Verrilline slowly approaches Hawke, her left leg gleaming with fluid. "It's okay though. It... it was okay. I don't really mind. You... needed me. I'm glad I could service you." _Twist, twist goes the knife, little bird._

"No," she whispers, her eyes wide. Her hands shaking. "No, I -- I'm having a flashback. Had. I've had a flashback. You-- you should go, I'm not safe, please, go, I can't, I'm not-- Go, get out of here."

"Sshh.... shhh... It's okay, Hawke. I'm okay. You didn't hurt me," Verrline assures Hawke. "It's okay. You can't hurt me, I'm magic remember? You don't have silver and I resist magic and ice. It's okay. I'm okay. I'm safe with you, you're safe with me." _Unlike weak mortals. Me you can't hurt but you're a danger to your Clan._

_Like Aveline, with her cold resistance. Like Zevran, who loves the cold._ She breathes deeply, lets it out slowly. "Okay," she whispers. "Okay. I'm okay."

"Right. You're okay, I'm okay," Verriline says soothingly. She reaches out to stroke Hawke's cheek with a shockingly warm hand. Not unpleasantly so, but it just highlights how cold Hawke is right now. "Come back to bed. It's okay. I'll take care of you."

She lowers her gaze, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Okay. I-- Okay," she whispers, crawling back toward the bed.

Nothing in her protests.

\---

There had to be a way out. They just had to hold on long enough to think of one. Then they could escape.

There was a wall not two inches in front of them, smelling faintly of pine -- or it had before the acrid oder of urine had overwhelmed all other scents. There was a wall just behind their head, too, giving them precious little room to move, very little space to breathe, was there enough air, they were going to suffocate, they were going to die in here --

There had to be a way out.

They couldn't see anything about their surroundings because of the bag over their head, tied around the neck. Whatever rope or chain held it closed seemed to be tied to whatever was around their wrists, holding their hands together in front of them. There wasn't enough room to straighten their legs without hitting another wall, and they could only lift their head a little way before it hit another, meaning this wasn't so much a room as a box, a very small box, perhaps a coffin, sized for a child even smaller than Helene, and even though they were small they liked being Helene and having friends and knowing heros and Astea herself had called them worthy and they didn't want to die in a box covered in their own urine and --

There had to be a way out.

Their hand throbbed where the finger had been removed. They didn't have time to worry about it, but they were a little worried about it: the possibility for infection, if nothing else. The chances of regrowing the finger went down the longer they were held in this tiny box with no way out. Their head hurt, they weren't sure why but it did. They were wearing smallclothes, bloomers and a chemise, white and neatly pressed and clean (before they were pissed on) and without ribbons or ornamentation, which was very comfortable for sleeping in but not something they wanted to be seen in outside the home. They weren't wearing shoes. This was going to matter when they got out of the box and escaped. The lack of shoes would make getting home troublesome when they got out.

There had to be a way out.

They hadn't slept since they were taken. They had passed out once or twice, but always, they had been jabbed with something sharp until they awakened. Their midsection ached from the various places they had been jabbed. They hadn't had food or water, either, and they hadn't been allowed out to relieve themself, so they were damp and cold as well as exhausted and hungry. The lack of sleep was the least concern, they knew, because people could go a very long time without sleep, and a surprisingly long time without food, but without water and with a potential infection they could die very quickly, within a few days, and the lack of air was going to get to them, every breath was stale, surely they didn't have much air left in this tiny cramped box and--

There had to be a way out.

Something new happens, a new aspect to their microscopic world of pine. A sound. Distant, muffled, but a sound they did not create. Nor was it the faint scurrying noises, the scratchy chitter that might be poorly spoken infernal or perhaps very poorly spoken draconic, that they could sometimes hear after being poked and stabbed awake.

No, this sounded like.... singing? The scholar part of the brain fusses at it for a moment, finally supplying the title of a satirical song. 'Astea Learns Love.' Not very high-brow, it's a light-hearted but not entirely respectful, as the song explains how Astea first discovers humans and their willingness to bred with any damn thing. Lewd. Lewd is a good word for it. Certainly not a hymn, that's for sure, but most tavern goers have heart- and likely even sung- it more than once.

Astea. _Astea._

Helene kicks as hard as they can, nevermind the pain in their toes. They slam their head upward, against the top of the box. And they scream, through the muffling of bag and wood and small, hoarse voice. If they could get their hands free, they could spellcast, but they had been through that before, and honestly scrying was no help here and boars only limited, but if they could get that person's attention, maybe they could get free. Maybe they would live.

The singing continues, then starts to fade as they scream. Just as they're about to falter, just as they begin to despair, the singing cuts off abruptly. And then they can hear the best question they can recall hearing in ages. "What was that noise? Sounded like... screaming?"

Moments later, they can hear movement nearby, then a wild shout and the sounds of a scuffle. "Fucking 'lls! Fuck is a sodding imp doing just fucking around 'ere?" the same voice says once the combat ends, now breathing a bit heavy. And now the voice is closer, much closer.

"Help! Help me, please!" Helene renews their struggling, kicking with gusto now that help is so close at hand.

"Shit, I did hear- where are..." The voice moves closer, then Helene can hear someone tapping on the box. "Hold on, I'm working on... pull away from the top iffen you can," the man warns them. "Imma 'bout to pry the top off."

Helene pulls back as best they can, tears dripping down their face with relief. _I'm free. I'm almost free. It's almost over._

There's a sharp cracking sound as the wood gives way, then light streams into the box. Not that it's all that great still, given the bag but the rush of less stale air likely makes up for it. "The fuck? Why is there- let me... I can't get your binds yet, so Imma lift you out," he warns Helene, intending to do just that unless they protest.

Helene stifles a whimper. _Put up with it. You're almost free. Let them touch you._

They go limp, forcing their muscles to relax as they are lifted out of the box. Blood rushes to their cheeks as they bite their lower lip, horribly ashamed to be seen like this: in their underthings, soiled, tied up, filthy, missing a finger. But not as ashamed as they are relieved to be free.

"Alright, let's get those binds off... quick snick snick and... there we go. Woah, steady there girle," the man says as blood starts flowing freely after over a day of being bound. "Here, lean against the box an' I'll get that bag off yer head."

"Not girl," they mutter, leaning back against the box as they shake their hands to restore feeling.

"Eh? Oh, sorry lad," the man replies as he works the bag off Helene's head. "You'll get your growth I'm sure. How the 'ells did you end up in tha' box?" Once they can see, their rescuer is revealed to be a merikos catfolk with dull grey fur and a scattering of white dots on his arms and the right side of his face. He's wearing leathers and has a shortsword he'd used to free them.

"Not lad either," they mumble. They take a deep breath to steady themself as they look around. "I am Seeker Helene Dakesh. I may be referred to as 'they' or 'them' in the singular. Thank you for rescuing me."

"...not gonna ask how tha' works," the voice says cheerfully. "And yer welcome. Might not be the most beloved of any of the brighter gods but... well, fuck, you hear a voice screaming for help, what else you supposed to do? Walk away?"

"Thank you," they repeat. "Can you tell me where I am so I can get home? This one wishes to be home."

"Yeah, 'course you do. Ah, well, we're in the Undercity. Not deep," he adds quickly. "Under Coal." He hesitates a moment, looking at Helene as if trying to decide something. Doing so seems to prompt another thought however and he winces. "Oh 'ells, where's my head? Here," he says quickly, shrugging off his cloak. "Gonna be a mit long on you but it's warm and... covering."

Helene shrugs on the cloak with relief. "This one can navigate if you will narrow down the approximate location. This one lives in Coalside." Only technically true, but true anyway.

"Nah, I know 'actly where I am, it's just... well..." He coughs a little. "Not entirely s'pposed to be down here, iffen you ken me." He snorts, then gives Helene a bit of a grin. "Actually, wouldn't have been here today at'll 'cept some Astean girl put on a real show yesterday. Down right mesmerizing. Completely threw my entire schedule off, it did."

Helene jolts with obvious relief at the deity's name. _So this **is** Astea looking out for me. My heart belongs to Alydra, but I will make a proper offering at the first opportunity to show appreciation._ Helene nods. "This one does not know your name and thus cannot give a proper report as to your activities. This one will not go to the authorities."

The merikos catfolk laughs, a deep, mirthful laugh and taps a finger to his nose. "Thatta a g- uh, Seeker? Sorry. Anyway, tha's right sporting of you. Well, then, follow old 'unknown citizen' here and I'll get you breathing the free and clean soonest, yeah?" He pauses again, giving them another look. "You alright to walk?"

Helene nods. "This one can manage."

They take a deep breath, steeling themself, and finally do what they'd been putting off: check their left hand, the wound site there. Their shoulders slump with relief as they spy the wound: clean, if gruesome. It looks as though it's been treated as minimally as possible, but as they peel back the dirty bandage, they can see no obvious signs of infection.

"This one can manage," they say again.

The man lets out a soft hiss. "That looks right nasty," he says sympathetically. "Lest it's only the little finger, the pink one," he offers.

Helene nods. "This one is.... This one will be alright." _Once Madam Zevvy looks at it. This one should go to Voice, instead of home. There might be some other complication this one isn't sure about. All of this feels like a dream, far away._ Helene remains on their feet, keeps moving forward, keeps breathing. "Where are we?"

"Well, don't rightly know iffen there's a name for were we are exactly," their rescuer replies. "Not exactly a lot of maps of the Undercity and what of them there is, don't always match, you ken? But we're under Coal, the north side. Not that deep neither, only maybe five-" He goes silent again, glancing at Helene. "Well... I know of two ways out I can show ya. One's 'bout an hour or so of walking, the other's a lot closer. But, uh, don't exactly lead to anywheres I should be going, legal-like."

"This one will not tell," they repeat. "This one needs to reach Knight street." _That's where Voice is, more or less._

"The longer one is in the wrong direction." _For my purposes_. "But the short one leads to the basement of a place 'bout five, mabbe ten minutes from Knight, 'pending on which end of it you want." With that, he starts off, making sure to keep his pace suitable for Helene to follow after. "How you end up in tha' box anyhow?"

"Kidnapped," they say darkly. "Perpetrator unknown. This one has suspicions."

"Right... suppose I shoulda guessed as much," he allows. "Well, let's get you home and safe, yeah? Bet you got folks worried about you and all."

"Yes," Helene says softly, almost tenderly. _Honored Madam Zevvy must be worried sick._

_Gag_. "Alright, we need to be quiet for the next few minutes. Path is normally safe but sound carries far too well down here for chancing it," their guide says firmly. Helene nods, mustering their strength to follow in silence.

The pair travel for a while, heading up rough stone tunnels, across a section of what looks like a mine shaft and then briefly entering the sewer system before the merikos catfolk gestures for Helene to follow him into a more recent looking tunnel. The scraping and dig marks around the opening look pretty fresh and as they squirm there way inside, that trend continues.

"Natural fissure I been widening up," he explains with a wink. "Leads right to my, ah, our destination. Try not to make too much noise though. And... sod. Fuck are you gonna slip out without being spotted?" he asks, seemingly mostly to himself.

"This one," they gasp, struggling to stay alert despite their head swimming. "Is small. Not... easily seen."

"Alright..." he says after a moment. "Guess I'll just have to trust your word you won't get caught or rat me out," he says, leading them to a section of the cramped tunnel that's flat and... brick? "Mum's the word- this'll lead to their long-term storage, so not much traffic but no sense in taking chances, yeah?" With that, he grabs a pair of iron rings that are bolted in crookedly and start pulling out a section of the wall about two square feet or so large.

"Trespassing is.. often required... to gain knowledge," they puff, with a nod.

_True- Alydra wouldn't mind overmuch on a bit of trespassing or not turning on your rescuer... but let's see just how strong your ethics are, defective little fleshwad._ He flashes a grin, then gives them a 'shush' gesture before finishing his little breaking and entering trick. Once the block is out of the way, he carefully peeks in, then gives a relieved sigh. "Clear," he whispers before wiggling through.

It's dark on the other side, but that's not too much a hardship for Helene or the merikos catfolk as just enough light leaks in from the door a dozen feet away to let them mostly see. "Alright. This is long term storage," he explains. "Head out from here, to the stairs off to your left, from tha' door there. That'll lead to the main floor. Now, this is... well, it's a brothel. Seeing a kid walking about will get a real hue and cry, to their credit, so you keep outta sight like ya promised now. I put in a lot of work into this and you tippen'em off would set me back something fierce."

Weirdly enough, their eyes seem to light up. "Which brothel?" they ask, quietly. _It's too much to hope for, to be Voice, but if it's The Cathouse, or the Naked Swan, it won't be too far a walk to Voice..._

Helene gets a somewhat taken aback glance at the question but also a shrug. "Place called Voice. Real high class, not some dive that won't care about a kid wandering around. Bring in a lot coin too," he adds with a slight smirk.

They perk right up, looking joyful and relieved. "Voice! I-- Thank you, this is where this one was trying to get." They manage to remember to give a small bow before they turn toward the door.

"Remember now," the merikos catfolk says quickly, moving to not block but follow them. "Mum's the word about all this. Not a hint 'bout me, my tunnel or any o' this." He thrusts out a hand. "Shake on it? 'ells, actually... you draw me up a little map of what's 'tween the stairs and the main floor, I'll even give you a little cut. A little something to make up for whatever happened to'ya." _There we go. No way you can pretend I'm just sightseeing now._ "Not even a map, just a bit of telling'd be a big help."

Helene frowns. "For what purpose?" They ask slowly, not sure they want to know the answer. Not sure they want to turn on their rescuer.

He waves them off. "Nothing too unsavory, I assure you. Let's just say... a bit o' coin and other sundry valuables might be... relocated once I work out a few more kinks." He smirks. "Or maybe more than a bit, yeah?"

"If it's coin you're after, walk upstairs with me. This one is certain the proprietor of this place will pay good money as a reward for this one's rescue." _And if he doesn't, this one will scrape something together._

_Fuck. That's... entirely reasonable for this facade to take it up on. Fuck! This is why I hate- loathe- having so damned little time to prepare things! Proper plans take proper time! This is so blessed frustrating!_ He scoffs a little, giving Helene a dubious look. "Woman's gonna hold over a full weekends till as thanks for happening across you?" he says, trying to stall.

"Might. I'm-- we're--" Helene shifts a little. "I'm important to him."

"How do I know he won't just have me arrested and be about his day?" _Alright, how do I spin this? How do I made me getting a reward the payment for a temptation?_

"He won't. He's well familiar with the, ah, less legal aspects of life in Coalside. He came from nothing himself, you see. So it's quite alright. Let's just go upstairs and see him."

He shifts a little, then sighs. "Feels almost less... right, ya know? Getting paid to save a kid, 'stead of stealing it with your own labour. What the 'ells, you got me. After you then Seeker." _This isn't going to work out. Just play the role you cast yourself as, take the coin- coin never hurts- and get out. Lean on the seed you already planted about the Astean and see if you can come back again with another offer._

Helene moves quickly then, up the stairs and to the main floor. They're spotted almost at once, with Nox rushing over to ensure they're alright as Lux races upstairs to get the Madam. The merikos catfolk tries to stay in the background, not drawing attention to himself as he observes everything closely. _Well, I was right in how much weight the things life would have on the tainted drow's choices. Fucking bitch... both of them. If the lilin hadn't sided with my property over her blessed host then... No, rage later, watch now. Disgusting..._

Zevran grabs Helene and holds them tightly. "Upstairs with you," he says after just a moment. "I'll- Lux could you-"

"Healer, on it!"

"Right, let's get you cleaned up and tended too," Zevran says firmly.

Helene clings to Zevran's neck just as tight, trembling in his grasp. "Rescuer," they mumble in his ear. "Promised a reward."

"Res-" Zevran glances around and finally spots the lurking stranger. "Thank you," he says fervently. "I don't- thank you." _I couldn't bear to be without **two** of my hearts._ "I'll have a room made up, on the house and-"

"Ah, actually, I can't. Bit of business I can't wait on," the merikos says with a wince. "Sh- sorry, they said something about maybe some coin to go?"

"Of course. I have a couple hundred gold in the till and double that in the safe. It's yours," Zevran says simply.

"A couple- damn! Uh, alright. Could... could I maybe come by tomorrow for it? Lot of coin to be walking around with..." _And I want a good excuse to come back so... yes, that might work..._

Helene clings tightly, letting the conversation roll past them. They begin to tremble, the adrenaline from their rescue finally starting to wear off. Zevran and the still unnamed merikos catfolk- because 'call me Gris' is pretty clearly not his name, not that Zevran cares or blames him- arrange a time for his return and then Helene is unceremoniously whisked upstairs for a shower, healing, food and rest.

\---

In Stygia, Verrilline lets out a long, soft sigh of relief. "Safe. They're safe. W- you did it. You saved them," she whispers to Hawke, wrapping her arms around the slightly smaller female. Seemingly without thought, one hand comes to rest just above Hawke's pelvis, the other on her stomach. Resting her chin in Hawke's shoulder, the lilin repeats. "They're home and safe."

Hawke seems to barely notice the hands; she sobs on Verriline's shoulder, rocking back and forth for a few long moments. "I'm s-s-sorry, I-- I just-- I just m-miss them so mu-much.."

"...I know," Verriline says softly. "You've depended on them for so long, it's only natural you're feeling..." _Weak. Lesser. Wrong. Vulnerable._ "A bit weepy without them," the female assures her. When Hawke had turned to face her, Verriline smoothly shifts her hands to instead cup Hawke's bum to pull her in closer.

_I've depended on them. All this time, I thought they were depending on me, but it was I who was... needy. Clingy. Impossible, without them. Varric's the one who deserves the credit for the things I've done -- without him, I'm worthless. I can't even control myself in the middle of the night. I can't..._ "Varriline," she says quietly. "Let go of me. I-- I don't want to hurt you."

The lilin hesitates, her hands lifting slightly- then return to place, a stubborn look on her face. "No. If you want me to let you go, then fine. But not for my sake. Your cold won't hurt me, remember?" She rests her forehead against Hawke's. "I don't have so many friends I- She cuts off, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't... presume. Why would someone like you want to be friends with a fucktoy."

"We're friends," she corrects. "And you shouldn't -- nobody exists just for fucking. Why would you need a whole person for that? No. You're much more than your parts. Which is why I-- I can't stand for someone to treat you like that, even if it's me."

Verriline flushes a little, her eyes getting a bit moist. Not just her eyes either. "I... I am what I am, Hawke. I... sometimes, it's... a burden, yes, but I do enjoy sex a great deal. And it's... better with you. It- last night was... abrupt but it was still... good," she says carefully. "I can do better though, if you... wanted to try again?" she adds, hope very evident in her voice.

"Do better," she whimpers, brokenly. "I-- I _raped_ you."

"Hawke _no_ ," Verriline says firmly, kissing the merikos elf in a swift move. "No. I didn't say yes then, but I was willing, I promise. I want to have sex with you." A heat flares in her eyes and her skin warms along with it. "In fact..." she says, voice husky as she lifts Hawke into the air.

"What-- Verriline, I--"

"Let me show you," she whispers. "Let me show you how much I want you." Her voice is a husky whisper as she moves to the bed. Setting Hawke down, she leans over the mortal so her hair gently brushes against her skin. "Let me... show you what I can do for you."

"What you can-- you don't have to please me," she whispers. "I don't--"

"Hawke, I _want_ to do this. Please. I want to touch you, taste you. I want to see your eyes glaze over, to hear your sigh, your whimpers and gasps. I want to learn your body, to master it. I want to teach you so many things, so many joys." Verrilline sinks to her knees between Hawke's legs, then slides forward so her nipples trail over Hawke's body. "I want you. Will you let me have this? Please?"

Hawke closes her eyes. "Yes," she whimpers. "Yes."

"Will you trust me? I swear to not do you true harm," she says quickly. "I just... there's something I want to share with you, a... a style of play I prefer and... I just- maybe you'll like it. You don't have to, I just wanted to... share this with you." She hovers over Hawke as she speaks, the only point of contact between them their chests- and the heat that the lilin puts off, an alluring, enticing warmth that ripples over Hawke skin like the best parts of a warm bath and summer sunlight.

"Rope play?" she asks quietly. "I don't think I'm up for pain play, not right now."

"Not pain play," she agrees gently, bending her head to kiss Hawke softly, quickly. "Just... denial, like we did with the massage. And maybe... maybe I could tie your hands to the bed? Loosely, you'd be able to break free if you wanted. Or blindfolds... it makes everything feel _more_ , when you can't see. I know all sorts of games... Ones I've always wanted to try with someone... someone that's more than a job."

"Yes," she whimpers. "That's a great idea. Tie me up, I love being tied, or -- yes. All of it, yes. If you're-- if you're in charge I won't... I'll know I'm not..."

Verriline can't stop herself- her breath catches, her eyes glow faintly and she presses her body tightly against Hawke's. Grinding herself against the mortal, she captures Hawke's lips in a passionate kiss and yanks her hands up to the headboard. "Grip," she snarls before recapturing her lips.

Hawke grabs the iron bars of the headboard, whimpering softly into her mouth.

"Good girl," Verriline purrs softly, kissing Hawke's mouth once more, then laying a trail down her jawline. _Pull back a little... can't go too fast, too hard. Not yet anyway._ "Don't let go. Not for a second. Understand? Say yes mi'lady." As she gives this order, she runs her hands down Hawke's arms and back up again so she can tie a conjured silk ribbon loosely around Hawke's wrists, trapping them behind the bars.

"Yes, mi'lady," she whispers, closing her eyes.

\---

Helene's day was going much, much better.

They had scrubbed themselves clean, frantically scrubbing at their lower regions until they felt some semblance of clean again -- and until their skin was dark blue and chapped, but that was just a consequence of getting all the piss off. They had dressed in warm, clean, dry clothing, and had devoured an entire batch of warm cookies as well as a bowl of bone broth. Finally, they had begun eyeing the bed in their suite, though they make no move to go toward it. Not yet. Not while they can lean against Zevran instead.

Catching their third glance in half as many minutes, Zevran solves the problem by pushing Helene along to the bed, then slipping into it. "Cuddle, mon sage amie?" he offers gently.

"Yes, please," they say, curling up at his side. One arm clutches at his chest protectively, but they nestle along his side, head resting on his shoulder, shivering slightly. "Don't leave?" they beg, quietly, cheeks burning with shame. "I was-- I was in bed when I--"

"I was not intending to," Zevran admits softly. "I... in fact.... would you be willing to stay here? Until this is resolved?" he tacks on last second

"Yes," they whimper, burrowing closer to him.

Zevran relaxes, letting the feeling of (one of) his missing loved ones sink into his bones. Eventually however, there's a pattern of rapid knocks on the door. Zevran tenses a second, then sighs- but it's a grumpy sigh, not a worried or sad one. "Enter," he calls out, Varric pouring into the room with an expression of clear relief on his face.

"Helene, you're safe," Varric says with open joy and gratitude in his voice. "Thank the Bright Gods. How did you find them?"

"I did not," Zevran replies reluctantly. "One of the Undercity denizens brought them in... I'm not sure how."

"They saved me," whimpers Helene. "I was-- I could not... I'm so sorry." They close their eyes, shuddering.

"Shhhhh," Zevran whispers, slowly rocking Helene in his arms. "You're home. You're safe."

"Who were they? Name? Description? How did they find you?" Varric asks rapidly once Helene calms a bit.

"Didn't get a name. A thief. They were coming to steal from Voice. Catfolk, merikos. They heard me screaming and let me free. Offered to walk me back. I promised not to tell that they were breaking into Voice, but when I found out it was Voice, I said, you'll get more reward from the Honored Madam than you will stealing from the till."

Something about that feels off to Varric but Zevran says something before he can focus on it. "I certainly shall. He said he'll return tomorrow at second bell for his reward, once he has a safe place to stash it. Grey fur, white dappling on his arms and the side of his face," he adds, tapping his own to demonstrate. "Youngish, perhaps earlier twenties, perhaps mid. No claws, no scars. Basic leather gear with no markings. Light blue eyes, slightly yellowed teeth."

Varric nods, filing that all away. "How did he come across you? Where in the Undercity were you?"

"I-- I'm not sure. Under Coalside. We walked maybe ten minutes to get to the sub-basement of Voice."

"The... sub-basement?" Zevran asks, stiffening a little.

"I'll see to it," Varric promises. "How did he find you?"

"I'm not sure." They frown a little. "It is not known." _Better_. "It is suspected that Astea intervened. There was mention of a Bright."

Both men stare at them for a moment. "...can you expand on that a bit?" Varric asks slowly.

Helene swallows. "It-- he said that he was going to come through on a different day, but there was an Astean who was delaying him, and he had to put his plans off until today."

"That's... fortunate," Varric says slowly. "I'll make arrangements for another offering then," he adds. "Alright. So. Anything else of... note? Did you see anything about who took you?"

Helene shakes their head. "This one.. This one could not sleep. This one was prodded. Relentlessly." A deep breath. "This one heard their captors speaking in Infernal."

"That pretty much confirms it then," Zevran says grimly.

"Yeah. Oh, and Wynne'll be by as soon as I can get ahold of her to... see about your finger," Varric tells Helene in a soft tone.

Helene swallows. "It is... appreciated. This one... well knows the dangers."

"...we... we have the, ah, finger. It's been preserved so..." Varric takes a deep breath. "It should be pretty easy to fix up. Two hour ritual, for something that small and such. But, uh, you get some rest for now. Isabela's on her way, so you'll have plenty of guards around."

Helene nods, taking a deep breath. "This one was taken from this one's bed. This one... will try to rest, but this one is... This one will feel safer when Isabela is here."

"Understandable," Zevran says softly, pressing a kiss to their temple. "Relax for now. We'll keep watch, I promise."

"Yes," says Helene, closing their eyes. As they drift off, safe and warm at last, they mumble one more small, barely audible word:

"Worthy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap in case you needed to jump ahead: Helene was kidnapped to provide leverage against Zevran. To get them free, Hawke made a bargain with the lilin who pretended to be Merrill. In exchange for coerced sex, the lilin fetched Tentos so they could renegotiate. Helene is freed, and named as the next name.


	21. Temptations: Helene and Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helene is provided an opportunity -- as is Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional content warning: rape/grooming/dubcon

Hours have past since 'yes mi'lady' had passed through Hawke's lips. It had been spoken, whispered, screamed and prayed scores of times since then. Verrline sighs with pleasure from her position behind Hawke, her hands slowly stroking the mortal's flank. Hawke kneels in the center of the room, facing the doorway, away from the mirror. Her ankles are tied together, her wrists bound behind her back. More silk cords crisscross her body, tiny knots soaked in oil pressing against key spots.

"Do you want me, little bird?" Verriline whispers as her tail works in and out of Hawke's body.

"Yes mi'lady."

"Do you trust me, little bird?" Skilled fingers abandon the tiny clamps hanging from Hawke's chest to slide into slick folds.

"Yes mi'lady."

"Do you obey me, little bird?" Another hand goes upward to close around Hawke's neck and tightens just a little.

"Yes mi'lady."

"Do you love me, little bird?" Strong, pointed teeth carefully nip at Hawke's ear, the pleasure overpowering the distaste and fear that tries to rise.

"Yes mi'lady."

"Do you belong to me, little bird?" Verrline's breath quickens. Is this it? Is this when she breaks?

A pause. "...a part of me, mi'lady."

 _Damn. This last barrier just won't break... still, I've plenty of time. For now, this one needs a reward to keep her hooked._ "You've pleased me, little bird. You may shame yourself."

Hawke convulses, her vision going white and her body turning to jelly as she slumps bonelessly against her Lady, her friend, her lover. Everything goes away, all her worries and fear and doubts gone, if only for a few moments.. Whatever Verriline is, whatever her purpose for doing all this, for right now, she's given Hawke peace and comfort when she desperately needs it.

Regardless, this is definitely not the best state to be in when the door flies open and her captor returns.

Tentoplenumitaeziro looks at the scene in front of him with barely concealed rage. "Return to your task in Glaley," he snaps, his hatred increasing at the lilin's smirk. "Now."

"I don't need to be back for at least a week and I have plenty to do-"

"I accelerated the timetable. Your window ends in two hours."

" _What_?"

"Better leave now, slut, or..."

"Understood, my _host_ ," the lilin hisses, infuriated that she's being pulled away from her new prize for at least two weeks when she's so blessed close to claiming Hawke's heart and mind for good. But above all, devils must uphold their agreements and so she vanishes without a sound. Watching Hawke slump sideways, body shiny with sweat and other fluids, the contract devil spits on her with disgust. "As much a slut as the lilin."

Seconds later and the door closes behind him. _She permitted herself to be bound and treated that way, I've no responsibility to free her. It won't kill her and that's all she's due from me._ Tentoplenumitaeziro continues on to the portal room, leaving Hawke bound and alone yet again.

Hawke lies in a heap on the floor, feeling her contentment trickle away from her. It's strange, lately, how even sex can only hold the loneliness back for a short while. Normally she'd expect to be basking in the afterglow for hours, but now, she can feel it flow from her, draining away and leaving her empty.

Of course, she can't articulate that feeling right now, not so clearly. As she lies in a bound heap, still wet with her own fluids, she feels bereft, abandoned. Empty. Deep in her soul, she knows she need to be filled in order to be whole. She needs those wonderful hands, and that tail, she'd do anything for that tail, anything at all.

Tears slide down her face. Absently, she wonders why.

Minutes pass, and her mood continues to plummet. She whines and whimpers, begging not even to be freed but to get her Lady back, to be petted and coddled and loved. She just wants to please her Lady, but she must not have pleased her, for her Lady left her, and she needs her back. She swallows back another nearly-canine whine. She'll do better. She promises. She'll do better. Just bring Lady back. She won't hold back this time, she'll answer yes to everything, she'll let Lady hurt her even, just please come back, please pet her.

Why did she say what she did? Of course she belonged to Lady, didn't she? Wasn't that the point of being a pet? Yet even now, even deep in the valley of emptiness and regret, that feels wrong. She is Lady's pet, but she does not belong to Lady. Why?

(anders,) some small part of her whispers.

Is it because Lady is a devil? That should be what's stopping her. But she _wants_ to be owned by a Devil. She's already owned by a Devil, and Lady is much nicer than he. A much kinder master. She knows she is disgusting, perverse, filthy. A devil-fucker, the worst kind of whore. 'I'll let anything touch me, corrupt me, pervert me, for sex', she had said, and it was true. She was nothing but a pet, a pretty little bird for Lady to play with, and someday Lady would leave her empty and broken like any other toy she'd grown tired of. That was what she was worth, no more, no less.

('daft girl. you're worth everything.')

Besides, what did it matter? She was trapped, there was no other option but to become Lady's little bird. Well, there was one, and that was to not belong to Lady at all, but to belong to Tentos, and she hated Tentos with every fiber of her being. Much better to be a pretty little pet in a gilded cage, coddled and loved and given pleasure for however long it lasted. Maybe this was always her fate. Maybe if she was good enough, she could be transformed into a Lilin herself, fucking for her supper.

('they are literal incarnations of evil so there's no need to be able to be friends, no?')

 

What was licking her face? That was strange. It felt far away, distant, like it was happening to someone else, but no, that's her face, and there's a big, wet, sloppy tongue on it. And there's whimpering, a sound she isn't making anymore. A... a dog?

_...Silence?_

There's no transition, no time of jumbled thinking or darkness. One moment Winter Alpha is watching the no-scent-but-looks-real thing, then she's crying and hurting but before Silence can go help her Bad Wrong Sex glares at her and then Winter Alpha is crying still but on the ground and she has things holding her still and she smells of mating and shame and hurt and sadness. Bad Wrong Sex is gone, her disgusting scent still lingering but no longer renewed. Silence heaves herself to her feet, body feeling stiff and sluggish, to go to Winter Alpha.

 _No blood, no pain-pain smells. Heart-pain? Winter Alpha is very strong, makes good Alpha but tries too much, fights alone too much, gets heart-pain often. Is okay, not alone. Pack is with you. Pack loves you. Maybe ties hurt_? Giving one last big lick to try and erase Hawke's tears, Silence staggers around to the other side of her person and angles her head awkwardly to start chewing on the silk ties. It's not lockpicking, but this mabari still plans to set her person free whatever it takes.

Hawke's strained arms flop onto the bed. This physical change jars Hawke once more, enough for a small moan to escape her lips. Her hands tingle as blood rushes through them once more -- something that finally calls to her attention the poor circulation the ties were inducing. _How long had I lain there, tied to the headboard? And-- Silence. Where was she? What happened to her? I keep forgetting she's even here, so focused on Lady that I ignored a Clan member (best dog)._

It's hard to care, even now. It's hard to focus on the mabari, when there's the cold and dark, when there's the absence of Lady. Hawke closes her eyes, letting out a soft whimper. She's naked again. Silence is going to argue with that (best dog) but she can't bring herself to get up, can't muster up the energy or willpower. Can't seem to care if she'll ever be dressed again. Ever feel clean again.

_Lady. I need my Lady. I can't focus without her._

She'd long known the word 'bereft'. It was related to the word 'bereave', as in bereavement, as in the feeling of grief she'd felt after Bethany was lost. Bereft. That empty hole inside her, that desperate yearning for something that will never be. The profound loneliness of having someone around and only wanting someone else. The feeling that it would never improve, that this dark pit of sadness was her life now, that without Bethany she would never feel happy or herself fully ever again. It frightens her a little how bereft she was now that Lady is gone. Has left her. Has rejected her.

Silence steps back a little, studying Winter Alpha. _Better-paws are free now... but doesn't finish free. Winter Alpha is deep heart-pain hurt. Silence is a good mabari, will keep trying. Paws next._ A few moments later, the ties around Hawke's legs are chewed through. When Hawke just lays there on the cold stone floor, barely breathing, Silence whimpers a little, then starts nudging her forcefully. She doesn't understand why, but Alpha makes people with hurts lay like this a lot so Silence figures it should help.

 _Push onto side. One leg curved back a little, the other more and on top. Head on arm, other better-paw on first arm. Good. Still not doing anything... Silence is a good mabari, will keep trying. Hmmm? What scent? Is faint... is bad._ Silence is still for a moment, instincts and training warring with each other. Alpha says no lick strange smells. Could be bad-food make sick. But... bad smell is on Winter Alpha. Silence it tough. That decided, the mabari begins to methodically clean Hawke, focusing first on removing the spots of drugged massage oil. Every few licks, she scraps her tongue on the stone floor as if to try and appease the mental image of Alpha in her head.

When her tongue gets to Hawke's sensitive tissue, she moans. _What... Lady? No. Silence. Why is Silence..._ A memory: Lady drizzling oil on her nipples, the touch of the oil inflaming her passions. And now Silence was... _She objects to the massage oil? She's trying to get me clean, and look, she cleans off her tongue. Why... Is the oil poisoned? Is that why I feel so wretched?_

The thought takes some time to form fully, but when it does, it bursts like a bubble in her mind, echoing around the corners until it's all she can think about. She's sure the oil is poisoned, or something like it. Some chemical that perhaps is nice for Lilin but toxic to humanoids, something Silence was trying to protect her from. "Good girl," she mumbles, the first words she's spoken since Lady left.

Silence takes moment to give a pleased grunt and nuzzle Hawke for a moment before returning to her task. Once she's done, Silence goes over to the door, dithers a moment, then goes to a corner and vomits. Futilely trying to bury the sick, she crawls over to Hawke with an apologetic whine, ashamed she did that indoors.

She knows she needs to comfort Silence. The poor pupper is sick. She needs to fuss over her, pet her, comfort her, like she did when Beka was injured in the line of duty. Like she always does, when someone she loves is feeling poorly. But the grey fog that is her heart won't let her get up, won't give her the energy or strength to move. Finally, a long moment after the Mabari cuddles up to her, Hawke manages to lift one arm, draping it over the canine.

Silence is warm, and soft. Silence will protect her, take care of her. She'll be okay. She's going to be okay. It's going to be okay.

_Please, let it be okay._

\---

It's just a bit after the noon bells when T spots a gray catfolk falling over the wall around voice to land in a crumpled heap. He's wearing leathers, with a pretty common cloak over it and... he's got bloodstains on his left side and leg. Well.. shit. Guess she's hearing her wages today- actually... does this count as combat pay?

Signaling for Loup to stay put, she moves to his side, drawing a knife in case it's a trick. "Sir?" She hates being deferential, hates giving people implicit authority over her, but she's been taught that the job requires it. She's meant to treat 'guests' with respect.

The catfolk- no, a merikos catfolk, given the shape of his face and the lack of fur on his hands- groans softly, then forces himself mostly upright. "You're... oh thank the gods, I made it. I need help. Was attacked," he gasps out. "Devils."

"Get inside. They on your tail?" She's already shifting her gaze up to the wall, looking for anyone following behind she can stab.

"Not sure," he grunts, staggering to his feet. "Imps, two of them. Killed one, then some else- bigger, meaner- showed up. Blades and bones. Had to run. Haven't seen them for a while but..." He breathes in, the noise sounding rather painful, as he nears the building. "Can't be sure."

"Get inside. I'll alert the boss." T backs after him, keeping her eye on the wall as she moves into the building. It's only once they're both inside that she breaks into a run, heading upstairs to pound on the door where she knows Zevran is sleeping, watching over Helene.

The door opens and T is faced with a very unimpressed dwarf. And also a very loaded crossbow. That's important too. "What."

"Devils," she gasps out. "Might be on the way. Guy downstairs says he was attacked. You 'n the boss are the best fighters here."

Varric curses softly. "With me," he snaps, trusting Isabela and Zevran to watch over Helene in case this is a trick. Stepping out, he closes and locks the door, then leads T back downstairs.

When they get downstairs, Amanda is wrapping the merikos catfolk's leg, as he winces, hands tensely gripping the fabric of his tunic. He opens one eye as they approach, giving a nod to T and a nervous look at Varric.

"Place is sanctified," Varric says as welcome. Won't stop devils from entering, but it will weaken them a fair bit, make them easier to fight or resist. "You're safe for now- what happened?"

"Was attacked, in the undercity." He'd arranged a little stage play down there, just for the sake of being able to speak honestly about it. "Said something about giving back the gi-- the Seeker." After he'd ordered them to, anyway. "Couple of imps, but then more showed up so I booked it."

"Damn," Varric mutters in orcish. "Smart to run," he adds absently, thinking things out. "Alright. I'll get you a room here for now, it's protected. Board and all too, but if you want entertainment, you pay for it. Amanada, if you'd let people know who need to know about that?"

"Yes, sir," she says briskly. Amanda kept her pink hair cut close to the scalp and wore a nose ring, but she was a fairly skilled healer, and she had a tender touch with the wounded or those suffering from lady problems. For her tone to be sharp like this, she must be in all business mode, ready and willing to organize people.

"The uh... the Seeker alright?" asks the catfolk, licking his lips slightly.

"Safe as vaults," Varric confirms. "You have anyone you need to get word to? I can send a messenger now or arrange for an escort later today."

He shakes his head. "Got no family, nothing like that." Which is very true, thankfully. _How disgusting, to know that you came out of another living creature in that way._

"Alright. Anything else to report? Were you followed? Any other injures?" Varric asks, already figuring out plans for ensuring everyone in the Clan, no matter how minorly, is protected. _Ask Aveline to grab Seli, Andy and the twins and move in with Merrill. Wynne too. Zevran, Isabela, Helene and I can stay here. Hire out some mercs for the extended members._

"Have to assume I was followed," he admits, with a grimace. "This was about the only place I could go," in order to win the bet. "Amanda's got me well looked for," he adds, rather than go on to apologize. "Thanks, mate." For playing right into my hands.

Varric nods again. "T, lead him up to a free room when he's done getting bandaged up please. I need to arrange for more security. And... damn. And send everyone home that we can. The less people in any crossfire that springs up, the better." With that, Varric heads off to start getting things set up for a seige.

"Boss ain't gonna like that," she mutters, betraying how very little she knows of Zevran with a few choice words.

Varric snorts. "You'll see," the dwarf says with a half-laugh, already half out the door.

\---

Helene knocks sharply on the door to the suite in which they've put their guest, a basket in one hand. When they awoke and heard the news, they wanted to thank their savior in person, volunteering to bring him some scones from the kitchen -- with Zevran in tow, of course. They didn't ever want to be alone with a stranger again, though they know it will someday be inevitable.

The merikos catfolk answers the door readily if warily, easing the door only only a little bit and standing to the side of it. "Oh. It's you, uh, Seeker... Helen was it?"

"Helene," they correct. "This one-- this one brought scones to express their gratitude for the rescue of their person. May this one enter?"

"right, right. Seeker Helene," he says with a nod. "Ah... don't suppose you could give a verse or two from the Lady o' Light and Life first?" _Which is entirely doable by devils of course, even if it does taste foul, but it's a very common bit of superstition. No doubt the Seeker at least knows better but it'll serve well to enforce my role._

Helene nods. "Blessed are those who love, for they have seized heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they have known love. Blessed are those who yearn, for they will be fulfilled. Blessed are those who sing, for they are full of the spirit of life, which dwells in all mortals and which is never to be belittled or forgotten." They shift a little, then add, "This one is dedicated to Alydra, but this one was asked for Astean verses."

"Ah, yeah, I just figured... right to the top and all," he explains, stepping back so Helene can enter. "You sure 'bout him?" he adds, giving Zevran a wary look.

"I could quote some Ciren text if you like?" Zevran offers blandly.

"This one is sure." Helene's tone is too mild. "This one verified that the requisite codewords were stated." They had, too, on the way upstairs, and they'd been with Zevran nearly every minute since then.

"Good, good," he says with a sigh. "Sorry, getting stalked and ambushed by devils can make a man rather paranoid. Come on in," he adds. "Oh, and thanks for the scones. Some kind of berry looks like?"

"Blueberry. With lemon." They shift their grip on the basket to both hands, walking in with a small smile.

"Baked in house, as matter of fact," Zevran adds agreeably even as he watches the thief. _Rescuer or not, I cannot find it in me to trust any but Clan right now. And there's also the matter of the recently boarded up tunnel in my basement._

"Lovely," the merikos catfolk says with a smile, reaching for the basket. "As I can't imagine this place don't have servants and the like, what else bring you up here?"

"This one wanted..." They hesitate, taking a deep breath. "This one did not, perhaps, properly thank you for rescuing this one." They give a deep bow. "This one wanted to ensure that you were being treated well and accommodated for, in apology for your being attacked on this one's behalf." That last part they didn't mention to Zevran in so many words...

"Right fancy talker," the thief says with a grin. "That a Seeker thing?"

"This one has known many Seekers to use formal or precise terminology, but this one is abnormal for a Seeker, yes." A faint, dark blue blush.

"Ain't no-one perfect," he replies with a shrug. "So, uh, if you don't mind me asking... what's this all 'bout? Got a vested interest in the matter and all. Devils and such."

"A devil is targeting my friends," Helene says softly, a light coming to their eyes. "This one is standing against it. It will not prevail."

 _How adorable, it thinks it can truly make a difference._ "Well, that's... all kinds of terrifying I imagine," he says slowly. "How much danger am I in? Would it be better if I skipped town or is hunkering down safer?" _Questions are such useful things really._

"It is your decision. This one would not recommend remaining in Nyra outside protective influence, but this one doubts you are important enough to chase should you depart."

"Heh, guess that'd make sense, ya," he says with a short laugh. "Well... wouldn't mind at least spending a few days here to get my head in the right space. Iffen you don't mind, uh, sir?"

"Madama Zevvy at work," the merikos drow replies easily. "It's an honorary thing. And by all means- I'll have your coin when you're ready for it as well."

"...right. Sure. Actually... mind if that's in gems? Bit easier to move around if I decided to do a runner. Which.... honestly, all this devil stuff..." The merikos catfolk shakes his head. "I'm no hero. 'ells, wouldn't even call myself an adventurer. Treasure seeker, maybe. Procurer of goods, sure."

"Of course. Can this one aid in your escape?"

He starts to shake his head, then pauses. "Ah... well... iffen you're offering," he says slowly. "There might be... sumthin you could maybe help with if, uh..." He glances at Zevran pointedly.

"As this one said before, the Honored Madam is not dogmatic about the Nyran legal system."

Zevran snorts at their particular phrasing but nods agreeably enough.

"Well... Alright then. Iffen I do get out of here, I have some... product I'd like to take with me. I come across a lot of stuff while poking about, you ken, and some of it is... eh, very undogmatic if you ken me. Sort of thing that might be hard to waltz out of place past some guards."

"Query: undogmatic as in something illegal but generally unharmful, or undogmatic as in something that is truly horrifying in nature? Specifically, does this transport include sentient beings?"

"Query?" He chuckles. "Nah, nothing like that. Just, uh, some odds and ends that certain parties would prefer to have, rather than let an enterprising sort such as myself make a living on," he explains, then gives Helene a thoughtful look. "Actually... Seeker's Alydra, yeah? Square gem with some colorful smoke in it? Name o' Seeker Rickard of the Grains mean anythang to ya?"

Yes, yes it does- Seeker Rickard was one of zi'Voiant's students and an important figure in Alydran legend in his own right, expanding mortal understanding of color and light by incredible bounds. Helene nods. "This one is familiar with his work, as well as the life of his mentor."

"Got a book with that symbol and name on it," the thief explains. "Couple of 'o stuff in that sort of vein. Relics, I suppose. Fetch good coin to the right sort but law types can get all sorts of bothered by things like proof of ownership and such."

Helene's eyes widen. "This one will buy that book! And any others relating to those persons. As for the others, this one has no problem with aiding."

"What exactly would you need in the way of help?" Zevran cuts in before the merikos catfolk can answer.

"Not much really," he says with a shrug, though his eyes had hardened at the merikos drow's intercession. "I know a guy that'll look the other way, but I need to get a copy of the shift rosters for a few days so I can be sure where he'll be stationed. Normally I'd have other means of arranging things but..." He glances around pointedly.

"This one may know someone who can help," Helene says slowly.

"I rather hope you mean Varric because I doubt that _Lady Lawful_ is the best person to ask for help," Zevran comments pointedly.

 _No, that won't work- the dwarf has other channels that would avoid betraying the paladin's trust or code. Need to twist this back._ "I'd like to keep this as discreet as possible," he tosses in quickly to stall.

"This may be connected to this one's quest," they say urgently. "And he may have been sent by Astea. This one thinks Lady Lawful may be amenable."

 _Connect to its what now? Whatever, take the luck._ "Don't know much about this Astea sending but... iffen you say so," he agrees.

Zevran, however, frowns. "...Helene... remember..." His eyes flick to the stranger, "what we were told. About... 'hot.'"

Helene blinks, then gives a short bow. "If you will excuse this one, this one must discuss further in private. If it is achievable, this one will return with the information. If not, this one will return to inform you." That said, they head for the door.

Zevran gives a nod as well and follows them- and he doesn't miss the narrowed eyes of the thief either. Leading Helene to his office, he gestures them inside.

Helene walks inside, promptly taking a seat, their little legs swinging under the chair. "This one would like to know how the proposal at hand violates the constraints this one is under."

"You're either betraying Aveline's trust by doing this behind her back or by asking for her to break her oaths," Zevran explains. "Normally I'd be less... wary of agreeing but given Astea's recent command, sorry, suggestion..."

"But this may lead us to the mirror, to Hawke. Surely that's worth it, to Aveline? Surely she'll help if we just explain correctly?" There's real, earnest pleading in their eyes -- not so much that they know this to be true as that they want it to be the case.

"Helene..." he says softly. "We have to have faith. We can try and buy the tome from him for coin, but we can't... actually, offer to buy all of his goods. I'm sure between Varric and I, we can afford it. Then he can leave legally. But we can't betray Clan."

"No," they say softly, shoulders slumping. "Of course not. This one will inform the guest."

Zevran moves to embrace Helene. "I... I get it," he says quietly. "The... allure of being accept, the need to do anything and everything you can in order to keep that acceptance. You're Clan. The 'no betray' thing applies to you as well."

Helene embraces Zevran tightly, shivering a little in his arms. "This one feels... small. Helpless. This one knows this one is worthy but... but..."

"It's... it's worse than rape," Zevran says softly. "Or rather, the... touching, the sex- that's not as bad as having your power and agency taken away. The feeling of violation, of being made... lesser. But it heals. I promise, it heals."

Helene nods twice against his shoulder, tears staining his shirt. They don't say anything. They don't have to.

\---

Hawke hasn't let go of Silence in five days. She's kept the Mabari close at all times, and the canine has been happy to stick to her side like glue. Slowly, she's started to feel like herself again.

Lady -- Verriline has yet to return. Hawke wasn't expecting her to; she'd acted as though this business would take some time, but she pines anyway, missing the presence of someone to speak to. _But then_ , she'd started to realize. _What kind of company is that? She's a Lilin, like Tenach'ka. What did I think she was going to do?_

She couldn't -- quite -- see her as the same as the drow's pet devil. Tenach'ka had seemed so commanding, so in charge, so capable. Verriline was her polar opposite. But then, devils have personalities. They don't have to be alike.

_Is it really so weird to think that there might be devils who don't like being what they are? Who don't like being used?_

_"Sceleratii- and pavitras and tulwaths for that matter- are what they are. They're concepts given form. There's no... give in them. Even the chaotic ones can be hard to predict, sure, but they're still... biased. And they always come back to start."_

_Yes, because Papa's never been wrong before._

Round and round she goes, unable to commit fully to one mode of thought or the other. One moment it's _papa will be so ashamed of me_ , the next it's _I can't just not love her_. So she keeps Silence on hand to drive the loneliness away, watches the mirror, and waits for Tentos to appear again.

Tentoplenumitaeziro doesn't waste words this visit. As soon as he appears in her room, he snaps out, "name."

"Good day to you too," she mutters, giving Silence a rough pat.

"Yes, fine, good day to you, charmed I'm sure, lovely to see you again, wonderful. Give me a _name_."

"Marian Hawke, nice to meet you," she quips, before sighing. "Your next target is Estelle di Famiglia Emerison."

The devil stares a moment. "That... is a _drow_ name. A _traditional_ drow name. How-" He cuts off, rolling his eyes. "Of course, why am I surprised. You submit and defile yourself with a devil, why not a drow?"

Her first reaction -- it shames her, later -- is to flinch. Her second is to jump to her feet, hot anger rising in her. "Estelle is nothing like your pox-rotted kind!"

"Then you must enjoy the taste of pox," Tentoplenumitaeziro sneers. Silence moves to support her person, hackles up but not growling thanks to some vague but deeply held instinct.

"You're right," she snaps, lifting her chin. "I'm filthy. Depraved. Disgusting. Too bad it's not me you have to tempt. You won't get Estelle that easily."

The devil pauses, frowning suddenly. "...I see," he murmurs, then vanishes without any warning.

Silence sniffs the air deeply, ears twitching. After a moment, she lets out a deep, angry growl before licking Hawke's hand.

"....he's not still here invisibly, is he, girl?" she murmurs.

Picking up the word 'invisible,' the mabari steps away from Hawke to inspect the room again carefully, then returns to Hawke and headbutts her gently in the gut. _Nope, all clear. Pets and cuddle?_

"Good girl," she murmurs, kneeling to hug Silence tightly. _Did I really mean that? Yes. I'm disgusting. And probably never getting back to Nyra intact. But... I can do what I can to try. Like I promised._

\---

"Really, I can't thank you enough for this," Karl says with his gently charming smile, the one that reveals the dimple on his left cheek. "Memorizing the skeletal structure for humans and elves was hard enough, expanding that to dwarves and gnomes was getting me so mixed up." _Mostly because I don't actually care, of course._ "Not to mention how much harder it is to learn from a book instead of a teacher." Before Anders can correct him again, the young man rolls his eyes and says, "sorry, tutor."

Over the last few weeks, Anders and Karl had found themselves spending more and more time together. Both of them have other duties, of course, so they're not always together but... Somehow, Anders makes a point of trying to east breakfast with Karl. Making sure to check in on him each evening. Perhaps walk him to his room and, after the second week, come in and have a bit of tea before saying goodnight. So when Karl had mentioned his studying woes, it had seemed the most natural and reasonable thing in the world to offer his assistance.

What is entirely unreasonable is just how cozy, how comfortable, it feels to sit next to Karl for over an hour each night for the last four days. Their legs brushing against each other. The slight tickling of Karl's hair when he leans over to read something Anders is pointing out. The feel of Karl's hand on his upper arm when he wants to get Ander's attention or to emphasis a comment. The earthy, almost herbal smell of him.

"It's mostly the same," Anders chuckles, pulling his chair closer. "They're all humanoids -- the skeletal structure is very similar. And really, in the scheme of things, it's not that important to recall how many vertibrae each race's spine has -- unless, that is, you're going into midwifery."

"Wish the old fossil that's grading this class thought the same," Karl says with a chuckle. "Still, I really do appreciate all this. At least you seem to enjoy the dessert I made- makes me feel more even about things," he adds, nodding at the remains of the sweet honey pear crumble that Anders had nearly devoured entirely by himself with a smirk. "Guess you're a real fan of sweet things," he teases with a wink.

"I've been known to be, yes," he says fondly, thinking of the taste of Marian's lips with a hint of a smile. "If they're worth it."

"Would it be?" Karl asks, peeking at Anders, then glancing away. "Helping me again. I mean. For... more sweets."

"There's no need for that," he points out. "Helping you is its own reward." _Ah, to be so young and full of promise._

Karl ducks his head, blushing a little. "True but... I... well, I wanted to. It feels good to... do it. Helping people. Right? I mean, that's what this place is all about really, right? Learning how to help people, starting with yourself."

"You could look at it that way. But I'd caution you against wasting too much thought on how good it feels." He smiles. "You can find pleasure in life in many, many places. What Summerhill needs is people who are dedicated to helping."

"But... why is it bad to feel good about helping?" Karl asks. _Isn't that why you do-gooders do it? The accolades and self-righteous satisfaction? Ah, but of course you can't admit that to someone. Hypocrites._

"It's not," he says, inclining his head a little. "But if that's all you're doing it for, you'll quit when it gets hard. There's far easier ways to feel good about yourself. You could join the guard, or become a prostitute, or work at a bookshop and make recommendations that people thank you for. Healing has to be more than that. If you can do anything else, you should."

"So... what does that say about you?" Karl asks with a slight grin.

He laughs. "That I'm a washed-up has-been, of course," he teases. "Now. Let's look at skulls again, shall we?"

\---

Hawke whimpers, a fist stuffed into her mouth as she rocks, watching the screen. _Anders... Anders, that's a **devil**. Nobody knows it's going for him, Karl's been around way longer than-- nobody knows to warn him. He's going to succumb. I'm going to... I have a chance, right now. If I can get out, if I can make my way back, maybe I can hide, maybe there's somewhere I can hide from the devil coming to collect my soul. I never said I wouldn't kill myself before I won the bet, maybe I can find some way to do it before he can collect._

She pushes off from the bed, releasing Silence for the first time in days. "Stay," she whispers. "Guard." Then she makes for the door, kneeling to examine the doorknob, turning it gently...

And nearly falls over as it opens easily. _What? I'm not-- I was never locked in?_ "Stay," she says again, slipping out of the door. _Let's see what I can find._

The area beyond the door looks surprisingly boring- smooth grey stone walls, floors and ceiling, with zero decorations anyway. The slightly surprisingly part is that the hallway is unlit save for a very dull green light seeping in from small slits in the walls just a few inches from the ceiling. Not really enough to see, even for one with elf blood, but enough to make out large objects at least.

Hawke makes it ten feet from the doorway before she feels the soft brush of fur against her arm. She groans. _Poor girl... you're going to be heartbroken._

Hawke makes her way along the hallway. First priority: something to kill herself with. Second: A way home. It'd be more valuable, but less likely to stumble across. Hawke- with Silence right at her heels- wander for almost an hour. Twice, they have to backtrack in a hurry to avoid the sound of conversation and once they have to duck into a side passage when pair of flaming imps dart past them followed by a massive... vaguely humanoid mass of crab, beetle and lion claws interspaced with very disturbingly shaped tentacles (and let's not forget the gaping maw that goes from the headless neck to the very menacing crotch) rush by them. The larger devil slows slightly as it passes by, sniffing the air but thankfully whatever task it's on is more important and it doesn't stop.

Finally, the pair find a flight of steps leading downwards, and, for lack of a better plan, they descend. For over five minutes, they go down, until finally the stairs end with a heavy door made of dull black metal. Well, it was dull black, but the crusted blood on it makes that hard to tell in places. Somewhat worryingly, despite the seriousness of the door and what that implies, there's no guard on it. Instead, it's slightly open, which allows not only a dull red glow to come out- which is how Hawke can see in the first place- but also piteous weeping and horrible cackling.

Next to her, Silence presses in close, side rumbling in a soundless growl.

When Hawke creeps closer, she can feel a sweltering heat coming from the ajar door. As she gets closer still, she picks up soft, scratchy voiced calls adimist the other sounds- from the cadence, she almost gets the impression of... rough workers or guards having a rowdy bit of fun while on shift. Peeking inside reveals a trio of grey-skinned, horned, bald humanoids covered in some kind of yellowish slime huddled around something on the floor. Next to them is a hulking set of platemail with far too many spikes to be practical being worn by a cloud of dark smoke. One of the greasy, slimy devils shifts a little and reveals... the thing they're working on is a person.

 _Was_ a person.

At least, she hopes the person is dead, given it's been ripped apart, one of the devils scraping at the underside of the person's skin with a spoon. With that bit of knowledge in mind, the human sized lump of cloth over the armour's shoulder suddenly becomes a shit ton more alarming... Particularly as that weeping has to be coming from something...

 _No,_ her mind whimpers, staring in horror. _No, no... I can't just... I can't leave things like this. But I can't-- they're too far gone to rescue. Oh, no, no I can't--_

The only thing approaching as bad as the scene before her is the realization that she's now the coldest thing in hell.

It's the diabolically animated armour that detects her first- the helm snaps around to face her with burning red eyes. A beat later and the rest of the armour begins to move towards her in a rush, a wordless, almost voiceless howl of violence erupting from within it. Two seconds after the armour is rushing, the other three devils begin to move as well, though one of them goes for a set of oversized fire bellows nearby instead of the door.

Before it can reach Hawke, it's met by just over two hundred pounds of muscle, bone, teeth and a fierce joy to finally have a threat that can be attacked. The devil armour is unarmed and slightly hindered by the person bundled and bound over its shoulder, but the gauntlets are tipped with deadly talons and Silence... Silence is a very good dog. But she's no match for four devils. Not by herself.

But for her Winter Alpha, she's going to _try_.

Like hell Winter Alpha's going to let her Mabari, her faithful companion, the one who is only here because she was _selfish_ and needed a companion despite being literally in hell. She charges into the fray a few steps behind her canine, wishing for all the world that she was Zevran or at least had some basic capability to fight unarmed.

She lets Silence go first, trusting her best girl to keep from being hit too badly. She guards the canine's flank instead, sending snow flurries everywhere as she casts spell after spell to protect them, to hurt their enemies, to have a chance of coming home safe.

It's not enough. Sure, Silence's teeth make short work of the armor devil. Marian even downs one of the grey ones with lightning. But they both know they can't win. This is exactly the sort of last stand Hawke was hoping for: a chance to go down in battle, free, rather than being used to hurt her friends, her loved ones, her city. When at last she succumbs, falling to her knees, there's a small smile on her face, a feeling of satisfaction among the pain.

That doesn't last long.

Rather than finish her off, the devil instead lays her out flat on the floor. She should be passing out, she knows, but instead she feels a rush of healing magic, stabalizing her as the devil and his remaining friend hold her down. She struggles, desperate to get free, wondering what's happened to Silence. Then the knife slides into her gut, and all she can feel is white-hot pain, all she can do is scream.

It doesn't end. Each time she feels on the verge of passing out due to the pain, she feels that same surge of healing, keeping body and soul together. She's not going to die. She can't. She desperately, desperately wants to. She never wanted to know the feeling of her skin being peeled back from her living flesh.

A minute later- or maybe ten minutes or ten hours, it... blurs, badly- the pain finally... well, not stop. Her gut, her stomach, her legs all still hurt. But the pain dulls from bright and searing to throbbing and aching. Some time later and Hawke feels a sizable mass of warmth and fur press against her side. More time passes and she realizes she can hear... whining. Infrequent and irregular in timing, so she spend some unknown time thinking the pain is making her hear things but eventually it sticks in her head as being real, being close. More sensations report along with that noise. The feel of coarse cotton under her back. The lack of sweltering heat. Soft light against her eyelids, a pale steady white light instead of sullen red. The scent of blood instead of smoke and grease.

 _No,_ her mind whimpers. _Please, no. I don't want to. I don't want to be alive, please, don't make me, I don't want to._

She can only indulge that voice for so long before others come rushing in to counter it: _'By **killing yourself** , you only make it that much harder to rescue you'. 'Hawke, don't you dare leave me now!' 'Do you think it would hurt less to just wonder, forever, what happened to you?'_

Even then, she doesn't want to wake up. But, in becoming aware of how keenly she doesn't want to, she also becomes aware that she is, in fact, conscious enough to want things. Which means she is, in fact, alive.

With a small sigh, she forces her heavy eyes open, taking in the blank grey stone before her. Shifting her eyes a little to the sides, she spots something more distinct- and rather familiar by now, the top foot of her viewing mirror. _My... mirror?_ She lets out a small whimper. _Fur -- Silence._

A soft pained whine echos her own noise, the sounds a little.. wet.

 _Silence!_ Now she turns her head to look at the dog, struggling to focus.

Silence is there, though normally she's not drenched in red.

Normally she's not covered in cuts.

Normally she doesn't have a deep gash along her stomach.

Normally she has _two_ eyes instead of one eye and a gaping, bloody pit.

Hawke whimpers, reaching to pat the dog. "Good girl," she whispers, eyes clouding with tears. "Best girl."

Silence pants weakly, then licks Hawke's wrist. After a few minutes, she wriggles closer and nuzzles her person's cheek.

Marian strokes her Mabari's fur, weeping silently. _After all that, she still -- I am so sorry, so very sorry._

The pair have another twenty minutes or so to cuddled together, to try and pull themselves together, before Hawke notices that Tentoplenumitaeziro is in the room. "Are you actively trying to be as incompetently obstructive as possible?" the devil demands scathingly.

"Yes," she groans. "What do you want?" _Was I out so long that it's time for another name?_

"To find out if I'm going to be forced to station a guard outside your room, where you are to be treated as a guest, in order to prevent you from being tortured and almost killed as a _trespasser_ ," the devil snaps. "You are _lucky_ that the devils you killed were of low rank and without patronage of any note."

 _Killed. He said Killed. Why is that important? Whatever_. "'djyou win?" she mutters.

"No," he snaps. "In large part due to your interference. I'm considering whether it's a worthy use of my time to call for arbitration on the matter."

"You can try," she groans. "But I didn't expect you to come-- did you _rescue_ me?"

Tentoplenumitaeziro's mouth twists in disgust. "I preserved the stakes of our wager," he corrects her.

 _Ah. Of course._ She sighs. "Well you did. I got it. You can get on with the wager now."

The devil rolls his eyes. "Please tell me you're not going to inflate this simple act of self-interest into a reason to fuck me too?" he says with staggering levels of disgust. "Idiot," he mutters.

"Hey, if that's what you want, I'm sure we can come to some agreement," she says, her hand tightening on Silence's fur.

"It's plain to see what your soul will one day be burned to create," the contract devil says with a sneer. "Do you understand why you must remain in this room or do I need to explain it in smaller words?"

"Guestrights inside, torture outside," she repeats.

"Wonderful, it can learn," Tentoplenumitaeziro says, clapping his hands lightly together. "Now, before we get to the matter of your killing two devils. destroying a fairly valuable construct and caused the death of a mortal captive who was slated to be harvested over the next month, would you like to bargain for healing?"

Two devils? She... they'd killed one, one of them were pinning her down, while the other was dealing with Silence... then pain happened. Lots of it. Her brain helpfully replays the fight to prove that's what occurred and something jumps out- when she was pinned, Silence had already been put down, her gut slit open. But she'd had both eyes.

 _Silence..._ She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "No," she says quietly. "Not for me. What would you ask for healing for Silence?"

"Five questions honestly answered in full without attempt at evasion or trickery," Tentoplenumitaeziro replies promptly.

"Three, but we skip the restoration of her sight," she barters. _Her eye... I seem to recall... the sound of a panicked, canine scream. But I don't remember... what happened._

Tentoplenumitaeziro considers this for a moment. "Two questions but the eye is not replaced and scars are not removed."

"To what degree do you consider a question answered in full?" she counters. "I cannot spend days explaining every intricate nuance of a topic for you, nor can I be reasonably expected to think of every scrap of information that could be volunteered on a topic."

Tentoplenumitaeziro actually looks a bit impressed for a split second. "One minute per question but you cannot attempt to stall and must prioritize information to the best of your ability."

"Agreed. Two questions, one minute each."

"I may ask you two questions that you will answer honestly during the course of a single minute per question but you cannot attempt to stall and must prioritize information to the best of your ability in exchange for healing for your mabari with exceptions that its eye is not replaced and scars are not removed. Do we have a bargain?" he asks briskly.

She turns it over in her mind carefully before nodding. "Agreed."

Tentoplenumitaeziro nods, pleased with this bargain and claps twice to summon... an elf? A very pale, haggard looking elf with empty eyes wearing only a ragged and soiled tunic. "Heal the canine," the devil snaps, causing the elf to stumble forward and begin to chant a typical healing spell. The symbol of Tessiline is a might be worrisome but... well, probably not a lot of Astea clerics down here. Not ones that still get spells anyway.

Hawke closes her eyes, one hand reassuringly on her dog, breathing into the residual pain. _I'm going to be useless for a while. But... I think that's okay. It's not like I need to do anything much right now anyway. Just wait for the end._

The cleric finishes healing Silence, who shakes herself vigorously, then adopts a more defensive posture now that she's no longer in pain. Tentoplenumitaeziro smiles faintly. "Good, then for my firsssst," he breaks off with a hiss, hand reaching for his chest. "Why is-" he breaks off, then curses softly. "You are a constant state of infuriating contradictions!" he snarls at Hawke. "One moment an impulsive meathead, the next a cool negotiator, the next a mewling slut and then a clever bitch!" The devil grabs the elf and shoves it Hawke. "Her as well and make it fast."

Hawke blinks, then a slow smile creeps across her face. _Shared fate. Right. I should have remembered that -- time to bluff like I meant to do it._

Again, the healing goes off without a hitch, though Hawke gets the vague impression that the spell doesn't like her. And it feels... cloying almost. Still, her wounds are gone, though her skin feels... stiff in places. "Now get out," Tentoplenumitaeziro snaps at the elf. "For my first question, what are the rest of the names you're going to provide for our wager?"

Hawke rolls her eyes. _Should have guessed_. "I reserve the right to change my mind, as I have done several times in the past. After all, I am not required to provide an actual name until the point at which you have completed the previous names. That said, at this point my plans were to name, in order, Joyous Seline, Captain Isabela of the Siren's Echo, and Varric Tethras."

"Point of clarification, what names would you name other than those that you've already considered?" the devil pushes.

"The remainder of my Clan, you mean? I suppose the other eligible names are Merrill zi'Hawke, who cannot be named as part of this wager; Andy za'Frane; Silence and Beka; the twins, Gilly and Tomas za'Frane; Nox and Lux; Claudia of Famiglia Emerison; and myself, of course."

Tentoplenumitaeziro nods curtly, memorizing the names. "Very well. For my next question, why do you think the most vulnerable person on your list will succumb? And remember to be detailed," he adds sweetly.

"My list of Clan? Well let's see here. I think Tomas is the most vulnerable. Gilly's pretty vulnerable as well, you understand, but Tomas just has this eagerness to please that nobody else quite has. If it was explained to him that he could help aunty Hawke, could become a hero, I think he would agree to most anything. He loves me very much, you see. And I have no intention of giving his name, despite his eligibility, particularly after this question."

"Children are ineligible and thus cannot be on your list in the first place," Tentoplenumitaeziro counters. Children are ineligible?

"Since when?" she argues, frowning. "I don't recall agreeing to exclude children."

"It's a given," Tentoplenumitaeziro says impatiently. "Until they're old enough to make choices about their souls, they can be killed, stolen and so forth but cannot be Tempted. I'm no fool that I'd risk the Watergiver's... displeasure. Weak and meek He may be for a god, He is still a god."

"Who said anything about tempting them to hand over their souls? I believe you've made several offers already that tempted them to lesser sins," she points out, stubbornly. _Go on, waste time on this argument._

"It doesn't matter, they're prohibited from being part of the wager by divine fiat. Unless you wish to argue the point with the Watergiver and Gasping Breath both," he snaps. "Now, begin your real answer and be quick about it."

"Fine," she says with a resigned sigh. "I believe that Anders will succumb to your current line of temptation. I believe he is lonely, and I have known him to do stupid things for love before. I was concerned that he may have already succumbed when you appeared; it seemed as though he had already given you his trust, and from there, it's a small step to enticing him to do wrong for you. It would work better if Karl were female, I believe; he only dates males, but this is due to a perceived weakness for females that leads him to believe he cannot be trusted to fall in love with a woman again."

"He-" Tentoplenumitaeziro scowls. "You mortals and your bedamned sex," he says with disgust.

"Yes, well, them's the breaks. And that's two questions."

 _Well, I at least got a very good indication of which names she'll select and perhaps even the order,_ the devil thinks to himself. _And that Anders is as... ripe as I thought he was, even if I miscued on the gender I selected._ "Very well," he says absently. "Stay in the room and try not to cause any more trouble."

"Sure. Glad to." She sighs.

\---

"I can see how this works," Karl says with a slight groan. "It doesn't hurt as much I might have though either, given how hard you have to push. The oil helps, I'm sure."

"Quite," says Anders, with a small smile. He leans forward onto his hands further, rubbing the tense knots in Karl's back. "If this were wounded tissue, it would be less sensitive as well," he adds, working his oil deeper into the muscle tissue. "Always pay attention to the patient, working within their limits."

"What kinds of... signs should I look for to know if it's working? Should it hurt at all? Feel... good?" he asks, breath catching a little.

"You should feel a decrease in tension in the affected muscles. It may burn a little, but it should rapidly feel relieved, as though something's released in it," he reports, in a crisp, professional manner. _As much as I'd love to make him feel good, this is strictly training._

"Right..." Karl murmurs. "And it's just the same on the other side?"

"Muscles are muscles," he points out, with a smile. He pulls back, trailing his fingertips along the boy's back. "How does that feel?"

 _Hells if I know, this is just a shell._ "Soothing I guess? Maybe... a little ticklish?"

Anders frowns. "Ticklish? Are you certain you have no merikosi heritage?"

 _Shite._ "Ah... well, actually, I might have some outsider in me from somewhere," Karl offers. "I've never really been all that interested in family history though."

"Aaaah," he says, knowingly. "If you're a tiefling, that could explain your thick skin. Sometimes they feel sensations differently, or see colors strangely, smell things oddly. That sort of thing."

"Well, I don't think I'm a," _filthy degenerate half-breed,_ "tiefling but maybe something close to it, I guess. That... would that... bother you?"

"Not as much as it would for some," he says, with a shrug. "Now, depending on your feelings on business regulation, I may have to disavow you," he teases.

"People can't be trusted to regulate themselves, as greed and avarice are too deeply wedded to mortal's souls for them to not take advantage of others if they think they can get away with it," Karl says promptly. "Governmental control is flawed as a concept as well, as it too easily concentrates power into a small group's control. It's an impossible dream of course, but possibly the most viable method would be some way of ensuring that everyone in a community has equal control, access and knowledge of all major assets."

Anders' hands still for a moment, then he smiles. "Well now," he says, his tone almost wondrous. "That kind of talk can be dangerous around these parts."

Karl ducks his had. "Sorry. I just... after my fath-" He takes a deep breath. "After...what happened, I... well, I had a lot of time to think. And... thinking about how the system could be better seemed... healthier than... other thoughts."

Anders shakes his head. "I didn't say I disapproved, comrade," he says quietly. "I said it could be dangerous."

Karl twists a little so he can look over his shoulder- that his pushes his hips backwards against Anders's leg and causes his side to brush against the healer is... entirely intentional and very much desired. "Comrade?" he asks softly, face only a few inches away from the human's own face.

"There are people in this city who want to see things change. Drastically." He doesn't pull back; he simply lowers his voice, looking Karl in the eye. "You'll know them because they call one another 'comrade'."

"Oh," Karl says, honestly surprise. _Well, well, well. That... could prove interesting. It's amazing how easy it can be to Tempt revolutionaries. And how easily revolutionaries can be turned into dictators and regimes._ "I see. That's.. and are you... a comrade?"

"I was, once," he says, wistfully. "In my heart, perhaps, but I no longer work for the cause."

Karl twists more, now half facing Anders. "What was it like? Did you- did it help? Does it help to- to- make change? To fix things?"

"It might," he says gently. "But you have to be careful. I let my head carry me away, and I ended up hurting the people I cared for very much."

Karl frowns. "I don't... I don't have anyone I care about anymore," he says bitterly. "Not since..." He pauses then, eyes flicking up to Anders. "Well.. maybe..."

"It's not worth it, Karl. You can't build a shining future on a pile of corpses." _Look at the hurt, the anger, in that young man's eyes. He'll go bad if I give him the tools. Poor kid._

"But... isn't that what they're doing right now? Why should- why should all the corpses be- be the poors'?" he demands. "Wouldn't a few more now be worth sparing us more later?"

"What's happening now has to stop," he agrees. "But if you replace it by being like the oppressors, all you'll have is a new system of oppression when you're done."

 _Regrettably logical but... hmmm._ "But what if the new oppressors... weren't? I mean, what if we took control and then shared the power? If it was us, the two of us, together, at the head of the cause, then we could trust us to let the power go when it's time!"

"We are but men -- weak, and falliable. No. It's frustrating how slowly change happens, but it is happening. Look at this place: it's essentially a commune, where we all strive for the good of all, side by side as brothers. This proves the system can work."

"But how many have to suffer and die while change 'slowly happens' Anders? How can we stay here in this- this havan while we could be helping? Come with me! The two of us could change things, together," Karl says passionately, grabbing the healer's hand tightly.

"I can't," he says softly, taking Karl's hand much more gently than he is gripping back. "I wish you the best of luck. Study those wiser than yourself, and join with those stronger than you are alone. But I cannot lead you."

"But why? You're smart, you're wise and- and a healer. You're gorgeous and charming and you- you're a _believer_! Who else would be better than you?" Karl demands. "How can you walk away from this?"

"Because I know myself. I know what I'd do if I were in charge. It wouldn't help the cause." He sighs. "Someday maybe you'll understand."

 _Dammit... alright... three hours left, might as well put every card on the table at this point._ "Then come with me. Be my guide. Teach me, keep me on the right path." _Annoying, to have to keep this up for... actually I can simply have him killed provided I don't promise to safeguard him or put a duration that's timed to me._ He leans in slightly putting them far too close to each other. "Give me someone to fight for," he finishes in a whisper. "To live for."

Anders meets the boy's eyes, swallowing hard. He reaches up, cupping the boy's cheek in one hand. _Someone to live for... I know how that feels. I wish, I wish I could._

He contemplates it for one sweet moment. He's cured; he doesn't need to stay at Summerhill, if he finds a better offer. He could leave now, with the boy. They could be lovers; he could taste those sweet young lips, spend hours every night studying philosophy and ethics and government. They could overthrow Nyra, together, and bring real social change. They could be happy, deliriously happy. He could feel young again, with promise ahead of him, instead of old and washed up with the best years of his life behind him. He could have everything he thought he wanted.

But...

He knows himself too well. If he tried to grab for that, he'd sully it. Their studying and learning would turn to ashes, buildings burning and blood running in the streets. He'd twist and corrupt the innocent boy, making him suffer the way he himself had suffered, making him face the darkness in his own soul. He would destroy everything he wanted if he tried to claim it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I wish I could. But you'll have to go it alone." His hand drops; he pulls back, toward the door.

 _No!_ "Please!" Karl begs, trying to inject pleading and loss in his voice. Mostly he succeeds. But there's also a thread of rage and hate in there...

Anders turns back, frowning a little. "Karl?" _What was that hatred, all of the sudden?_

"Please don't leave me too. Not like my-" He cuts off. "I mean, not like others have," he corrects quickly.

"I'm not," he says with a frown. "All i'm doing is saying no. You have to respect people's 'no', Karl."

"Of course, of course. I'm sorry, Anders," _for messing up_ , "I just... after being left so often, I guess I just..."

"Hey," he says gently, with a reassuring smile. "It'll get better. I'll be here when you need to talk to someone."

 _No, you really won't._ "I... is there nothing I can... isn't it worth trying?"

"There's always hope. There's always something worth trying. But this... I can't lead you. You have to find your own way." he reaches up to clasp Karl on the shoulder, giving him a nod. "You can do this. I believe in you." That said, he turns to go.

 _Fine. I guess that's the halfway point then,_ Tentoplenumitaeziro thinks as he watches Anders leave. A twisted grins appears for a second and he calls out, "goodneigh," softly as the door closes, slurring the end so it sounded more like 'goodnight' but later, Anders will wonder if he missed 'goodbye' instead. A word any healer worth their kit would be worried about hearing from a patient like this. Once the door is closed, 'Karl' vanishes.

\---

The next morning, when Anders comes to walk Karl to breakfast, there's no answer. Ten minutes later, another healer arrives to find Anders kneeling on the ground, weeping, as Karl's body sways slightly from the ceiling.

Anders doesn't respond to the healer's first few prompts. Finally, when his shoulder is shaken, he turns his head ever so slightly. Just, barely, enough. His blue eyes are ice blue now, electric blue, glowing ever so faintly; his hands are steady, his breathing even, but he looks through the healer as though he weren't there at all.

Quietly, his voice disturbingly level and calm, with a slight echo to it, almost as though two separate people were speaking, Anders says: "This one would like to be admitted as a patient."


	22. Temptations: Seli and Isabela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seli has to make a decision about her children, and Isabela about her dreams.

Joyous Seline za'Frane was having an awful day. Not only had there been a major leak in the basement at the temple while she was working, but she'd been backed up on clients due to one being late that she just couldn't turn away, and then, on top of all that, she'd gotten a notice that Gilly had been in a fight at her preschool again, after she'd told her daughter not to hit anyone else, meaning now she had to go pick her up separate from Tomas while the kids were still at recess.

When she arrives, mostly everyone is out in the yard; Gilly is sitting in an empty classroom, arms crossed in frustration, with an older, balding gentleman Seli's seen at the school before. It hadn't been hard for Tantos to tempt the man, since all he needed was the man's likeness for the afternoon. This man at least worked how mortals were meant to work: he wanted something, and was willing to bargain for it. Not like these disgusting Clan members of Hawke's.

"Frederick Rodriguez," he introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. "I presume you are Mrs za'Frane?"

"Yes, that's me," Seli replies a little out of breath from rushing over. The mother barely glances at Miser Rodriguez before she's scooping her daughter up to fuss over and check for injuries. There won't be any, she's aware that the preschool isn't backed by the Ciren church, it's run by the church outright for clergy so she'd have been healed of anything more than a light bruise or scape. But still, she's a mother first and second so she makes sure.

Gilly, of course, is unappreciative of this, actually growling softly as Seli pats her down.

_Rotten child. Imagine, spending so much of your life entirely useless. Disgusting._ He clears his throat. "Can we speak on the matter of your daughter's future?"

"Yes of course," Seli saying, closing her eyes for a moment as she braces herself. _The message said that Gilly 'seriously hurt a fellow student' to the point that he 'required magical healing.' Ciren, this is going to be..._ "Go ahead, Mister Rodriguez," she says, picking Gilly up and taking a seat across from the... teacher?

"The school will require me to say that your daughter has serious disciplinary issues," he begins. "Educational institutions become concerned when students exhibit such relentless violent tendencies, not to mention the ability to exhibit serious harm. Furthermore, in Nyra, the use of magic to harm another student is taken very seriously, even at this age."

"The use of-" Seli's eyes widen. "What _happened_?" she demands, checking Gilly over again, causing the young girl to grumble wordlessly.

"Tell me, is there any primal magic in your immediate family?" he asks, frowning slightly at that dratted, bestial child.

"Ah... yes? Lovan, her father, had a grandfather that was a Wilding. Um, a ranger, I think," she says, confused by the question for a moment. "Wait, are you saying she manifested a primal gift?" In her lap, Gilly tries to make a purring noise.

"That's the most reasonable explanation for the clear claw wounds she left on the other boy, yes." He sighs. "She is, of course, expelled."

Seli winces. "How- how bad? Is he going to be okay?" Seli asks quietly. _Gods, what am I going to do? I can't take more than a day or two off without a lot more notice. Not that that would help in the long run. And what about Tomas? I can't split them up so I'll have to withdraw him too..._

"He has been healed," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "The other children were quite frightened by the whole affair, as you might expect. And of course, you'll need to disclose this gift wherever you next enroll her -- unless you plan on private tutoring?"

Seli winces. "Yes... of course," she mumbles, holding Gilly closer. "I... was the guard contacted or... has the boy's family been contacted?"

"He's a Ward of Ciren," he says, looking away as he adjusts his tie. "For this sort of thing, as he was not badly harmed, the guard has been informed but chose not to send a representative."

Seli takes a deep breath. "I... I would like to pay for- if he needs any additional medical care or the like, for the trauma."

"I can pass that along to the principal," he says, with a nod. "That may help. But, as I've now communicated the required information, I would like to speak to you on a less professional note, outside any duty I have to the Board."

"I-" Seli's eyes narrow. She's a rather attractive woman and the handfasting ribbon she wears has a grey trim to as a prayer to Mileen to show. Combine that with the obvious holy symbols she wears, it's appalling common for people to... make unwanted advances, sometimes in ways she considers to be slightly bizarre. "How so?"

"It may prove... difficult to get young Gilly the education she clearly needs. I believe there is a good chance she can grow up to be a productive member of society -- provided she is taught properly from a young age." _Which I would like to prevent, but this bet is more important._ "Outside my capacity at this school, I know a druid who could be persuaded to take on a pupil, if you like."

"You- oh," Seli says, flushing a little, though she mostly hides it by bending over to press a kiss to the top of Gilly's head. "That... thank you. Are they part of a University or temple? I- I won't want to send her away," she says firmly.

"They're attached to one of the local temples, though they do of course tend to wander a bit. Druids are like that, I understand. Very... natural." He shrugs. "Do you want me to put in a word?"

"I... I wouldn't mind getting contract information, a name and such," she says with a quick smile. "Thank you." _I'll speak with Wynne and Varric before I decide anything. They should be able to help for sure._

"I will see if he is in town," says the man, waving a hand. "If not, I can find out how he is getting mail. For now, you can write me at 32 Front Street, I will receive the letter." He pauses, frowning, as if debating something.

Seli sighs a little. "Is there anything else I need to know about the altercation? And... and can I take Tomas, her brother, out early today? I'd... I'd like to have them both home right now."

"I see no reason why you cannot fetch Tomas. And no, that's the extent of what I know about the altercation." He seems to make up his mind then. "Let me know right away if you want me to track down Darrian. I cannot recommend a teacher more highly; if I had children with primal gifts," _which I thankfully never will,_ "I could not ask for a more knowledgeable or patient teacher." _Because any teacher I asked would laugh his ass off._

"Of course, thank you," Seli says gratefully. "I'll probably be in touch in a day or two at most." _Unless Wynne or Varric have a perfect candidate or know something about this Darrian, then it won't hurt to at least interview them._

"Please do. I have to leave on business at the end of this week, but I eagerly await your mail."

"Thank you again and..." Seli takes a deep breath. "Please pass on my offer of aid to the boy." Gilly growls softly, getting a sharp 'Gilly' and a shake from her mother. "My apologies, I'll be having a long talk with this one as well once we get home."

He nods. "I won't keep you, then. Good day." _Or it will be, once you agree to meet my druid._

\---

Hawke spends a lot of time sleeping these days. The healing is good -- keeps her from being in so much pain, though the scar still aches her. But she also went through a considerable amount of trauma, and her ability to cope was already degraded by the time she got caught. So she spends a lot of time sleeping.

When Verriline returns, at long last, Hawke is out cold. As is her usual nowadays, she curls around Silence, clinging to the Mabari almost uncomfortably tightly, refusing to let go. Her grip slackens in sleep; Silence can leave if she wants to, but so far, she's always been right where Hawke left her, her arm still curled loosely around the canine, when she wakes.

Until tonight.

Verraline slips into the room with barely a sound and quickly spots Hawke. Hard not to, really, given how small the room is and the fact that the bed is right across from the doorway. _Finally able to slip away from that cold bastard. Given how twisted his desires are, you'd think he'd be easier to lead around by cock but... oh well, here now, for the night anyway. Doubt I'll get more time than that before my oh so lovely host notices me here and gets a bug up his arse again. So lets get to it, hmmm?_ "Aww, are you're so adorable... and clearly lon-"

As soon as the lilin starts to speak, Silence's head snaps up. The sight of this one, the one that the mabari is certain is responsible for making her fall into the not-sleep-sleep, instantly provokes a savage snarl and a furious lunge. She's not certain, for sure, that the lilin is also the one that keeps making the Winter Alpha smell like empty and sad, but she is the one that's keeping her from being able to guard her person when it happens. So.

Verraline's eyes widen and she tries to jerk away but Silence is too fast for her to have a prayer of dodging a surprise attack. The mabari's jaws close on the devil's arm and- much to Verraline's shock- draw blood. Unlike a human or the like, her arm isn't broken or even severed, but the bite is deep. She quickly surges her magic, attempting to charm the beast but the mabari's protective instincts are far too roused for that to work. Silence lands and starts to twist her head back and forth to worry her prize.

Seeing Hawke start to wake, the lilin vanishes with a muttered curse. _Fighting her mabari in front of her, even with a plea of self-defense... no. Besides, I need to get my fucking arm healed. How did that pox-laden cur hurt me?_

Silence staggers back with a surprised grunt at having her prey suddenly gone, but doesn't drop her guard. Not. Yet.

"Silence?" Hawke murmurs, reaching out for the doggo, half-roused. _Something's wrong,_ her heart keeps beating a tattoo in her mind. _Something's wrong, get up, something's wrong, get up._

Silence gives a soft grunt to let Hawke know she's around, but stays on guard. She swings her head around, trying to adapt for the missing eye.

Hawke swings her legs over the side of the bed, squinting into the dark until she finds a shape that she desperately hopes is her doggo. "Clear?" she asks quietly. _If I only had a staff..._

Silence huffs softly, then pads over to the bed to ensure that her person is okay. She's still a little tense, but otherwise seems just pleased to see her person paying attention to her.

_A nightmare, maybe. Maybe an attempt to lure me outside, where I can be hurt._ She shudders, reaching down to fondle Silence's ears tenderly. "Good girl," she whispers. "Best girl."

The mabari groans softly, her happy, love-you groan and licks Hawke's wrist. Tilting her head to peer at Hawke easier, she tocks her tail twice on the ground, then steps back and wiggles, dipping her front down halfway to the ground. _Outside danger, can't run. Want wrestle-play? Bored, move good. Winter Alpha sleep too much._

Hawke sighs. "I wish we could get out of here," she agrees. "But we can't. We have to stay here." She pulls her legs back up onto the bed, nestling into the covers, patting the spot beside her.

Silence moans softly, then grabs Hawke's arm lightly in her teeth to try and tug her out of the bed.

Hawke tugs her arm free as best she can. "No, I'm going back to bed. I'm sorry."

Silence growls softly, then switches targets, instead latching down on the mattress so she can dump it on the ground. And Hawke with it, if she doesn't get up.

Hawke lets out a small cry of alarm, getting to her feet before she can be dumped. "Alright, alright! I'm up. What's-- what's the problem?"

Silence lolls her tongue out, clearly pleased with herself and her results. Now that Hawke is up, she goes into her play pose again, then darts at Hawke in a feint. It'd be pretty clear what she wants at this point- they can't run around or play fetch, sure, but they can tussle easily enough.

Hawke shakes her head. "My everything aches, Silence. I can't."

Silence grumbles demandingly, then rushes Hawke again, this time closer. The mabari is clearly not going to let Hawke skip this. _Winter Alpha getting lazy. Nothing but sleep and mate for months. If more fight, need move around._

Hawke takes a half step back, leaning up against the wardrobe. "I can't," she whispers, wrapping her arms around her middle, bowing her head, tears sliding down her cheeks.

_Will feel better!_ Silence growls softly, then moves to headbutt Hawke in the gut lightly to get her attention again.

Hawke lets out a soft mewling noise, swallowing hard. _Please. Just leave me alone._

Silence whines softly in sympathy, then takes a few steps back to study Hawke. Finally, she huffs softly, then goes to get... Hawke's shoe? She offers is to the magus with ex... with an expectant eye.

Hawke reaches for the shoe, staring at it blankly. _Put it on? Or throw it?_

Silence stares at Hawke, waiting for her to throw it so she can leap up and catch. Then toss it back at Hawke. Then repeat that about fifty thousand times. It's not nearly as good as tussling, but it's a little bit of activity. Silence is best girl, she can work her way up to tussling if she has to.

\---

Two days after Gilly's fight, Seli heads for a small cafe for her meeting about a druid-teacher. Andy doesn't have work until noon, so she's twin-free for a few hours. Hopefully, she'll be able to get a name and be able to arrange for a meeting in the next day or so. Otherwise, she's going to have to figure out a babysitter that's willing to deal with twins, at least one of which has an uncontrolled magical talent...

He of course shows up early, sitting and reading the paper as he waits for her to arrive. He looks unruffled, serene, as though emphasizing the differences between her child-frazzled life and his own calm, unperturbed one. As if to say, remember when you had your life together? That was fun. The sooner you can get back to that, the better.

"Ah, Ms La'frane," he says, folding his paper as she approaches. "Glad to see you again."

"Mister Rodriguez," she says a trifle wearily. "Am I late? Sorry, Tomas was a bit- not important. Thank you for being able to met in the morning with such short notice."

"Yes, well, I may be a busy man, but I'm able to make time for something as important as this." _This bet, at least._ "Have you decided to pursue teaching with my contact?"

"I've a few other leads but at this point I'm looking at every option," Seli says with a sigh. "I'd like to at least find out more about your druid friend, perhaps met with them if the.. basics seem promising."

He nods, and begins speaking of his friend. This, Tantos was prepared for; he's carefully prepared what he plans to say, picking true facts and glossing over others, to give the rosiest image he can of the druid he's picked out. It's not a perfect image, of course. He leaves in a few mishaps, a few flaws, to add character to the image he's portraying. Normally, he'd be able to pick traits at will to pull together a character that would work for this sort of temptation; this time, as he's limited to true facts, the challenge was actually exciting for once. He really gets into it, now gesturing, now pulling back and acting more reserved, drawing her along like a puppet on a string.

_Yes, la'Frane, that's it. Dance for me. You know you want this for your daughter. You know this is your best option._ "I think I can get him back to Nyra within the week," he concludes, straightening his tie. "Does that sound like what you're looking for?"

_His not having worked with children as young as Gilly is a worry but... it does sound like he has the same exact talent as her. I can always hire a chaperone or a nurse to watch them, it's finding one that can teach and ward her as well that's the hard part._ Seli nods slowly. "I'd very much like to speak with them in person," she agrees. "And introduce him to the twins to see if they can mesh at all."

He nods. "I suspect they will. That said, I do have to warn you of one thing before I call him back from his travels." He pauses, looking a little uncomfortable. "As you know, druids are not typically the most devout worshippers of deities, given that they tend to be naturalists. So this may or may not even matter. But his choice of deity is... well, not Ciren."

Seli smiles faintly. "That's fine. I'm a Joyous, yes, but I'm not a zealot by any means. Andy worships Bastion as his patron and many of my closest friends are Astean for instance."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Quite." Flustered, meaningless utterances, meant to give the impression of relief. "Then consider it settled. No more need be said, I trust?"

Seli gives him a slightly curious look. "Is something the matter?"

He gives an unconvincing smile. "Of course not." _This is going just according to plan._

"You just..." Seli frowns, then shakes her head. "Sorry, it's been a long couple of days," the priestess offers. "Do you have any idea when your friend Darrian can met with me for an interview?"

"I don't. Within a week, I hope." He hesitates again, shifting a bit. "It's just-- well, no, I should trust you to be accepting of his faith. It's just that I know he's been ostracised before, and if this turns out to go poorly..."

Seli scowls. "I try to do my best to judge people on their own worth, their own deed, rather than on their group or race. Why has his faith been an issue in the past?"

"Well, not so much his _faith_ as his _race_ , really. There are those who would say one of his... ilk... is ill-suited to be around children. Unfounded, of course. I've known perfectly lovely parents that share his affliction."

Her scowl deepens and Seli crosses her arms. "Again, I'll judge Darrian on his own merits, not those of his race," she says very firmly. "This doesn't change anything, I'll be happy to met with him."

"Good. Good. I will reach out to him." _And send him a thank you for this bet._ He pauses, then blinks. "Oh-- do you know, I believe I will be passing through his territory on my upcoming trip. If I can't hear from him, perhaps I can take Gilly to meet him? It would shortcut things a little, and we could find out if they get along."

Seli shakes her head. "Thank you but no," she says firmly. "I won't be able to get the time off for a trip within the week and I'm not sending my babes away from me for any reason."

"A trip such as this is perfectly safe," he says, with a smile.

"It's not a matter of safety really- Gilly is too young to really understand why I'd be sending her away. She would only know I'm doing it," Seli says softly. "I won't do that to her, especially after the last few days."

"Won't it be good for her then, when she does come back and you're not at all upset with her? Build resilience?" _I'm losing her. How? This was a lock!_

Seli shakes her head, giving him a soft smile. "I gather you don't have children of your own?"

"Not my own, no. What does that have to do with it? Or have you forgotten my position?"

"It's not the same. Oh, I don't mean that you have to bear them for a child to be your own, but running a school, even teaching... it's not the same as raising them," Seli says with a tender expression. "Ups and downs, good and bad... no mother worth the name would send their child away after a traumatic event." _There could be exceptions, of course, life is a wild, chaotic thing, but things aren't nearly that bad. I'd had to ask for charity, but if the worst happened, I could take leave at the temple and watch themselves. Andy makes enough for us to live on for a while and... the Clan would help if needed more._

_What is it with these mortals and their obsessions with the products of their filthy, disgusting bodies?!_ "I see. Well, we shall have to hope that he is nearby, won't we? Thank you for your time."

"No, thank you," Seli says warmly, reaching over to shake his hand. "And please, let me at least pay for your tea."

\---

There was still hope. There had to be; Alydra would have sent word if they had lost. Therefore, Helene is less concerned than some of the Clan about Hawke's fate.

Hawke had been missing for seventy days. Helene was no stranger to the amount of harm that could be brought to a person in seventy days... but then, neither were they a stranger to the reserves Hawke had to draw on, or to the power of the Clan to heal someone small and afraid and broken. Helene very pointedly did not look at their left hand when they had to draw on this fact to comfort someone.

Today, however, was good. It felt like they were making progress, getting closer to narrowing down options as to where Hawke might be. Helene had borrowed the communication ring to trade theories with Estelle; they were presently wrapped up in warm, comfortable pajamas, a blanket draped over their shoulders as they lay on the floor, surrounded by books and a mug of steaming tea. This was about as close to Alydra's realm as Helene thought themself likely to see anytime soon.

"What have you found?"

"Well... it's technically unconfirmed, given that all of my information is coming from devils, but I _think_ I have a name for our culprit," Estelle says with a bit of glee and pride in her voice. "Though... I'm a little worried about how easily I was given the first clue..." _Tenchka knowing a lilin that had shared just the right bit of gossip that I needed to get this all started... seems almost too good to be true, even if the rest of it wasn't nearly as easy._ Her set-up is... rather a bit different than Helene's, given that she's currently naked while a pair of male servants massage her from neck to toes. Not books nearby either, but she does have a nice glass of wine near at hand.

"Research can be done," says Helene, sounding a little smug. They reach for their mug of tea, pencil at the ready in their dominant hand to jot down notes. "Spell the designation?"

Estelle chuckles. "Of course. The devil's name is Tento blessed is the love of Astea plenum blessed is the mercy of Bastion bitaeziro blessed is the bounty of Valshathe," she answers, spelling it slowly, twice, afterwards. "After I got the name and followed it up and it looks solid. He's definitely working in Nyra, but I couldn't get much more than that- nothing about his type or specialty."

Helene nods. "He must be after something big, if holding Hawke captive is not enough. Good work, Heir Emerison."

"Lady Heir of Familgia Emerison during a formal function, Lady Estelle in public and for another of the Clan, Estelle when it's just us girls," the noble drow says, not sparing a single though to the male running his hands up her inner thigh, nor the one gentling kneading her neck.

"Understood, Lady Estelle." Their tone is a bit crisp, cold.

Estelle pauses a moment, frowning. After a second, she waves off the two servants. Once they're gone, she speaks again. "I... I apologize if the correction was... presumptuous of me," she says carefully.

"The correction was appreciated," Helene says, still sounding a bit stiff. "This one prefers to call people by their correct designation. The third condition does not apply, therefore, the correct term is Lady Estelle."

"I... don't understand? Is this a cultural thing?" Estelle asks, utterly baffled. "Oh! Your age- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were a child anymore than I meant to imply I was. It's a slang expression, isn't it? Did I use it improperly?"

Helene takes a deep breath, lets it out. "This one is not a girl."

"Oh. I... didn't realize you were a male," Estelle says, off guard. "I... I know that non-drow males can be intelligent but after you and Varric, it's... well, it's amazing to be honest."

"This one is not male," they snap quickly. There's the sound of a few deep yet rapid breaths. "This one... one moment." The sound of the ring being placed gently on the floor, the sound of footsteps receding to an adjoining room.

Helene bursts into the sitting room, panting, and takes a moment to collect themself in the doorway. Estelle stares at the ring in dismay- and not a little upset at being so rudely cut off. A few seconds after the ring is taken off, the connection cuts out, leaving the drow clueless as to what's going in at Voice.

"Helene?" Zevran says, startled. Seeing their condition, he fumbles to his feet, stretches forgotten. He can finish his flexibility routine later, this seems... urgent. "What's wrong? What news?"

Helene shakes their head, wrapping their arms around Zevran, clinging tightly. "This one," they whimper. "This one is wrong."

"You... made a research mistake?" Zevran hazards, wrapping his own arms around their smaller frame willingly enough and rocking them gently.

Helene shakes their head. "This one _is_ wrong." A deep, shaky breath. "This one neglected to explain this to Lady Estelle."

_This one is-_ "No," Zevran snaps. "You are not _wrong_ nor flawed nor freakish or any of those other things you call yourself when you're feeling... vulnerable. And if my dear auntie made you feel that way, I'll be happy to _explain_ her error."

Helene flinches. "No, no, this one-- this one did not-- please don't be angry with her. It's not her fault."

"Convince me- what exactly was said?" Zevran insists, though his voice is not as hard.

"This one..." Helene takes a deep breath. "Lady Estelle laid out rules for proper titles. This one is to call her Lady Estelle among Clan, and Estelle when only females are present. This one is not female."

"Ah." Zevran takes a moment to try and process that. "And... then? Did you explain that you are not female?"

"This one tried. This one was initially unclear. This one... was then complimented on being so intelligent for-- for a--- for a m-male."

Zevran blinks a few times. "Right, very matriarchal culture," he says after a moment, shaking his head a little. "Okay. That's... that was probably a bit jarring," he allows.

Helene nods. "This one c-couldn't-- couldn't face--"

"You've had a very long few weeks," Zevran says gently, hands kneading and stroking their back. "It's okay you needed to get support, that you sought out lo- help." _Fuck. Keep talking and maybe..._ "That's perfectly understandable. Expected even, given our circumstances."

_Sought out... what? Something of which he did not prefer to speak._ Helene nods against him. "This one... this one just... couldn't. After Sharran..."

"You are you," Zevran says firmly. "Not male nor female nor both. You're just yourself, Helene that was Dekesh." He tips their head back and kisses them, slow and thorough. "So there."

Helene sighs, melting against his chest. "Honored Madam should be careful," they tease. "This one has a history of relationships ending.... poorly."

That gets a snort. "And I have a habit of clinging to relationships tightly enough that they defy death itself," he says back, only half teasing. "I'm willing to take the risk."

\---

"Isabela!" a jaunty male voice roars across the tavern. A glance reveals a broadly smiling merikos hobgoblin with wild black hair, a dozen earrings and a stained leather greatcoat waving her down. Blight Ruckson, a fellow captain of an, ah, airbound acquisition specialist ship. "Get that big arse of your's over here and pull up a chair! I got a beer and a shot with yer name on them."

A beer _and_ a shot? Ruckson must have an offer for her. Or he's just made a big haul and is feeling generous, but he doesn't look drunk himself so that's less likely. Still, he's a solid enough sort. Untrustworthy in general of course, but he holds pretty close to a few of the more romantic notions of privacy- the true, a man's word and the value of captives over corpses.

"Ruckson! Someone's feeling generous," she teases, swaying her hips as she makes her way over. She pulls up said chair, sitting in it backward so she can lean forward, demonstrating her upper assets. "What's got you in the mood?"

"Success and money 'o course, what the fuck else girlie?" he asks with a hearty slap on her arm as he always does. Strangely though, he doesn't leer all that much at her breasts as they sway from the impact. He's evidently more focused than normal... so, yeah, this is definitely not just celebration. "Had some and hoping for more."

"Well! I can drink to that," she laughs. "Especially if you're buying." _What's this about, I wonder?_ she muses, feigning gaiety as she settles in to drink with him.

Drinks are given and taken and people settle in. Ruckson isn't alone either, at least not at first, as he has some of his crew with him- as well as a floozy or two- but it's not long before he pulls Isabela aside for a more private talk. "I was hoping to run into you," he says in a low voice. "You ever heard about Admiral Lawmore?"

Of course she has- she might not a history expert or keep up religiously on the news but what pirate hasn't heard about the leader of the only real non-city-state lead armada in the entirely of the Sovereignty Colonies? Wayang that's been half terrorizing, half championing anyone that travels by sea or air for over a hundred years. Cunning, charismatic, brilliant and fearless, Lawmore is a legend.

"Rumor has it, the Admiral is retiring. Soon." _My rumor, but details._

_Admiral Lawmore... retiring._ For a moment, Isabela can't think of a witty rejoinder. This could change _everything_. Sure, she isn't a member of their group, not even at the most extended level, but she keeps up good relations, and sometimes that means handing over cargo or paying dues. A new leader could go either way: more dues, more onerous burdens on her, more chains to keep her reigned in, or it could be a good thing if the new leader is someone she's got in good with. "Yeah?" she asks, giving him a cunning, hard look. _He knows something. Let's get it out of him._

"Yeah," Ruckson repeats, glancing around. "Thing is? His second, the elf sorcerer with the wings? Nadine Stormcrow? She's dead. He'd been grooming her for over a decade to take over from all appearances but with her dead, he's adrift. And evidently, not willing to wait another decade to train someone else up, if he can even find someone. So..."

Things click into place for Isabela, and her eyes widen just a hair. "You're making a play, then?" She tries to keep her tone casual, but a little hint of awe and wonder creeps in despite herself.

"Everyone is," Ruckson says softly. "There's been a series of jobs put out, contracts of all kinds. Issuer is hidden, carefully so, but if you start putting them together, it paints a certain kind of picture. A test kind of picture. Or maybe an _audition_. Nothings been said for sure, but... people are scrambling, trying to complete the jobs, making alliances, taking out rivals... things are getting... exciting."

_An audition. Hells, **I** could throw my hat into the ring, member or no member._ "Fancy that," she says, casually.

"Fancy fucking indeed," Ruckson says soberly. "I'm a simple gob, Isabela, so I'm just going to ask. Are you interested? It's a helluva long shot, but..."

_Am I interested? Hells to the yes. Can I pull it off? Now? With my crew already grumbling about how long we've been in Nyra, I'm sure they'd love to try. But... Hawke's still missing._

_Hawke's probably dead, let's be reasonable. She's not coming back, not from this. Not from being gone this long. I could go, make a life for myself, come back for Zevran when he's through mourning. I could be the pirate queen I always wanted._

"Interested, yes. But like you said, it's a hell of a long shot, and I'm not sure where I'd begin," she muses, mulling it over.

"Well... that's why I'm here. You've got a lot of ties to Nyra, that's pretty common knowledge, so I could track you down pretty easy and..." Ruckson glances around again to make sure no-one is too close. "See, I have a plan. Well, part of a plan, and you're the center of it. I'm in talks with three other captains, all of whom are good pirates but smart enough to know they're not leadership material, if you ken me. Rippin, Gorlis and Finnia. But.... Finnia's not exactly a fan of me and Gorlis and Rippin won't commit without Finnia's support. Admittedly, having a mostly strix crew is a pretty damn fine feature for airship combat. So here's the thing. We all throw in with you and you make us your, whadda they call it, command... circle? Whatever it is."

"Coterie," she says absently. _I could do this. Even if I lose, I'll have a strong airship squad, with me at the helm. I would have bargaining power then, would be set for life. I would..._

_I would not get back to Nyra often._

"This sounds like a great plan. Let me talk to some folks, pull some strings, see what I can bring to the table."

Ruckson winces. "Here's the thing though. Given travel times, I can only give you three days. After that, I have to met back up with them and Finnia gets to make the same offer to her pick, Duboasi. Five ships is only a tenth of Lawmore's core group, even if only a quarter of them are airships, but that's more than most captains will have to show. But you're going to have to decide soon, Isabela. Fame, ships, riches and enough power to make a city-state act polite- or whatever it is in this place that's nailing your foot to the ground."

Her expression darkens. "There's nothing keeping me here. I just have to settle my debts before I go." She takes a deep breath, forcing the flirtatious smile back on her face. "I'll meet you here in two days, then, to work out the details. Noon?"

Ruckson leans back to study her for a moment, then grins broadly. "There's Isabela back! I have to admit, when I got here and heard how long you've been loafing around this place, I was worried that you'd... well, glad to hear I was right to put your name forward. Another round?"

She smirks. "I'm always up for another round."

\---

When Zevran comes over to visit with Merrill and Isabela, Merrill informs him that Isabela hasn't come out of her room all day. This, he rapidly discovers, is because she's been packing; there are three large trunks in her room, and she's stuffing the last of her clothes into the third one when he comes to the doorway. The maps she'd hung on the walls are gone; the portrait of Hawke she keeps on her dresser is gone too, leaving the guest room feeling sterile and empty once more.

Zevran stills, face going blank, as he stares at what's in front of him. "...Isabela?" he finally manages to say, voice even but... a bit toneless.

"Zevran," she says, a little breathlessly. She turns, smiling at him, though there's a tightness around her eyes. "Good, that saves me some time going to find you. I have to go."

"So I'm seeing," Zevran replies. "Why? What's wrong?" he asks carefully. _Maybe... maybe she's going to get Estelle for some reason? Or some expert? She's not... maybe she's not running again._

"There's an opportunity I can't pass up." She shrugs. "My crew is getting restless, I'm going to get desertions if I stay much longer. This is going to be good for me. I'll be in a much better position next time you see me." _Please don't make this weird. Don't make me say it._

"She's not dead." Or he can say it. Well, the mirror of it. "Helene would be able to tell us if she was... We need to trust in her. In ourselves."

Isabela sighs, the easy smile fading. "I'm not doing anything here. Between you and Helene and Varric, you're doing all you can, but I'm no use to you. Let me go. If you're right, if she lives and she comes back to us, it'll be a sweet reunion when I return. If.. If not, then you can come with me when I leave again."

Zevran stiffens. "I can-" _Not important. That she thinks that I'd abandon Helene, Merrill and Voice as well as the rest of the Clan just because Hawke... no, focus on her leaving._ "We do need you," Zevran says softly. "If... I'm sorry we haven't made that clear, that we let you think we don't. Merrill wouldn't have made it this far without you. Our investigation has stalled out, yes, but Helene and my aunt have confirmed that the devil is still here, in Nyra. Active. And we have a name now. Varric is working on something, though he's being a bit mum about it- you know how he gets about revealing a plan before he has the bones of it at least. Please."

She lets out a long breath, running her hand through her hair, under her bandanna. Her expression is oddly pained. _He doesn't know what he's asking of you. He'll understand._ "Zevran, this isn't just a raid or something. I've turned down plenty of golden opportunities in the past few months. This is once-in-a-lifetime shit. If I don't do this, if I burn this chance..." _There's no way anyone would trust me to lead a fleet if I turn this down. I'll be small-time forever._

Zevran bows his head. "Ma'bela... Astea... Astea's answers... she said we had to... do this together," he says carefully. "We can't do this without you. I... talk with Helene first at least. See what they can foretell. If this is even worth trying. If... if this chance is worth..." _risking Hawke's life._

"I have until tomorrow noon to decide," she says, absently. "If you can get them, I'll ask. I don't want to risk-- if I'm really needed..."

_Will I really give up everything for Hawke?_ She pictures the half-elf's smile -- not the one when she's actually happy, but the one she gave Isabela in the kitchen, when she'd thought Isabela had left forever, when she thought she didn't care. That sickly, doubt-ridden smile, the one that says, 'I'm going to be happy for you because you're well rid of me', the one that practically begs to be kissed off her face. _What have you gotten yourself into, Isabela?_ she asks herself for perhaps the hundredth time. _What would your life be without her?_

"Let's just find out what the score is," she concludes.

"We can go right now, they're at Voice," Zevran says instantly. "If this..." His eyes close. "If you need to walk away, I won't... I can't stop you. I swore... I won't stop you. I always love you. But I don't know if I could..." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that's not... Let me know when you're ready to head to Voice to ask Helene," he says abruptly, turning to go.

She reaches out to put a hand on his arm. "You'll choose Hawke." Her voice is quiet, understanding. "I can respect that." _I can't live with it, but I can respect it. Gods above. She breaks his heart, all our hearts, over and over, and he still loves her more than me. Well, that's just how it is. If I want him, if I want her, I have to compromise. Have to give up on other dreams. Have to make a choice._

"Not just Hawke," he says in a whisper. "Merrill, Helene, Voice... Varric, Aveline, Lux, Nox, Rosalie... everyone in the Clan. My other brothels, the other things I've build here... it all started with Hawke, yes. But it's not just about her, not anymore." Zevran turns to regard her with somber eyes. "You. The Isabela that... the Isabela I think you want to be but are afraid of being. Of trusting. She's here too, even when she's not."

"Not me," she says bitterly. "Not really. Maybe you've constructed some Isabela in your head, but it isn't me. I don't belong here in some city, surrounded by chains. I belong in the open skies, coming and going as I please. I belong on my very own ship, going as I choose, taking what pleases me, commanding my own helm. This isn't just another heist, Zevran, it's freedom itself. I could become a Queen, ruling over a whole fleet of ships. I could forge my own nation in the skies and seas, a nation beholden to nobody and nothing. That's what you want me to give up, for what? So I can help plan the funeral?"

"Is that really what would make you happy, ma'bela?" Zevran asks gently. "Is being free, being alone, what will finally let Naishe rest? If that's... if that's what you need to do, then go with my blessing. But just remember that sometimes, seeking some ideal of perfect freedom is just another chain."

She visibly flinches at the name, pulling back from him. "It's my dream. My lifelong dream, and you're asking me to..." She turns away from him, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"I'm not asking- I'm trying to not ask you for... that." Zevran sighs, not bothering to hide how he wipes some tears away. "I just... I want you to realize what're you paying for this dream." He licks his lips. "And asking if it still is."

"Of course it is," she mutters, but it's an off-the-cuff response, not truly her answer. She takes a deep breath. _If it meant never seeing Hawke again... would all the sky in the world be worth it? And yet, if it meant staying here, settling in Nyra and never leaving, would all the pouty, troubled smiles in the world be worth it?_

_Is this how Zevran feels? Torn between two loves, unable to rank them or imagine his life without either?_ She's never been torn; her love for Hawke might be stronger than she ever knew possible, but if given a choice between Zevran and Hawke, she'd walk away from the woman without ever looking back. _Not that I'd ever tell him that. Not that I'd give him that kind of power over me. But I would, if I had to._

This, though, this is harder. _If it meant never seeing Zevran again, losing his respect, could I still go? Maybe. But it'd be harder. And losing both Hawke and Zevran... Who would I be, then? Not Isabela. A cold-hearted pirate queen, with a full ship and an empty bed._ "You really think we'd lose her if I left?" she whispers, still facing away from him, still trying to pretend she's not crying.

"I..." Zevran is quiet, knowing full well what his answer will likely mean. What it will cost. _I could hedge, tell her to ask Helene, get advice, think it over. And maybe we should get advice from on high. But..._ "Yes," he whispers. "Gods grant me the forgiveness I don't deserve for doing this to you, but yes." _I owe Isabela more than that, more than trying to slip around the price._

Her shoulders slump. She lets out a long breath, turning the idea over in her mind for a moment longer. "Alright. I'll stay," she whispers.

Zevran stills. Heart pounding, he tries to speak but nothing comes out. Swallowing convulsively a few times, he finally manages to wet his mouth enough to force out a raspy, "just like that?"

"You wouldn't say it if it weren't true," she says softly. "And you know as much about this as anyone."

"Not..." Zevran's breath hitches. "Thank you. I can't... thank you. Whatever you need to- to have what you can, to make up for this, just ask."

_You._ She sighs, licking her lips. "I'll take care of it. Consider it handled."

Zevran shakes his head. "Not just now, not just for this. After. When it's... safe for you to wander again, whatever you need to make it work the way you need it to. Just ask. Please."

She shakes her head. "I won't kid myself, thinking I can go back to that life after this. My crew will abandon ship. My bridges will be burned. I'll just have to find a new life for myself. Maybe a bandit. Maybe something else. I don't know yet." _Maybe a whore_ , she adds silently. _Beg me to stay. Offer me a job. Make space for me. Please._ No, they're not like that. Their relationship has never been like that. That's Hawke's way: worm her way into someone's life and never let go. Isabela has never been like that. Won't be, can't be. Still.

"You, a simple bandit? Hardly. A Princess of the Road at the very least, the Bandit Empress," he says with a wan smile. "Or I could set you up at Voice, living the life of a royal courtesan but with the selecting your monarch every night."

It's her turn to still. _He doesn't mean that. He's just being funny._ She turns, a broad, false smile on her face. "Ooh la la. I could wear fancy silks and everything."

"Or nothing," Zevran replies wink. He sobers a little. "If you wish it, I will see to it." He cocks his head. "Actually... I was... the place behind Voice, the building there? They are struggling of late and I was thinking perhaps to expand a little. Of converting that into living quarters for the girls, so they do not live above their job. A room for myself, as well." _And as of this month, Helene._ "If you liked... you could pick out a room for yourself to use whenever you wish."

As she searches his eyes, her smile fades. "I'd like that," she says, more soberly.

"No strings attached. No price or expectation," Zevran promises. "As much as such can exist in life," he allows. "Just a place you can rest, live, for as long as you wish."

Something odd flickers across her eyes, something nigh unreadable -- but displeased. "Perfect," she says with a smile.

"No expectations," Zevran says slowly. "But... that does not mean... that more would be unwelcome by any means. I love you ma'bela... ma espoir dans le désespoir." _My hope in despair. The greatest act of good I did as a slave, the one act I could hold fast to, a barrier against the evil I felt sinking into my very being._ "I will not demand more of you than I already have, but I would welcome everything."

She swallows, tears welling up in her eyes. _Everything? Truly?_ "I-- you have no idea what that means to me," she whispers.

Zevran smiles weakly at her. "I... I think I might have a thought or two," he replies thickly. _I suspect it means as much as Hawke's welcoming me into her life, Merrill offering her heart without doubt, Helene letting me hold their hand... and your smile at sunrise._

\---

The room was cold. The room has been cold for a very, very long time.

Without a window, without day and night, Hawke has no idea how long it had been. Minutes? Hours? Weeks? Months? The mirror was blank, the only truths reflected in it her blue lips, the ice in her hair. It didn't matter. Nothing _mattered_. The floor was ice, the walls were ice, the ceiling was ice, and nothing mattered. Not the Mabari alternately licking her face and whining at her. Not the pain in her behind as the thin nightgown was all that protected it from the thick ice underneath her. Nothing.

Isabela. After all this time, of course it was Isabela that doomed the Clan. Of course it was Isabela she shouldn't have trusted, Isabela's name she should have left off. Of course her damn heart betrayed her. It doomed everyone, everything she should have been, the moment she saw 'bela's glorious behind in the bar.

_My heart. My traitor heart. I'm so sorry._

The mirror crackles to life. Hawke hangs her head, closing her eyes, unable to bring herself to watch the downfall of her hopes, her dreams. She knows how this will go: he'll repeat back the contract, and Isabela will sign. He'll carry out his end of the deal, then come back to gloat. Why watch. Why bother. Why anything.

"Sorry, deal's off."

Hawke lifts her head, just a little, the first sign of paying attention she's done all day. _She's joking. This is torture._

Ruckson stares a moment, then rolls his eyes. "Really Isabela? You want a better deal than just Pirate Queen? Go ahead, what's your counter offer?" he says with a tight smile. _I suppose I shouldn't have expected a whore to pass on a chance to barter._

"None. I'm out. Sorry to get your hopes up." Isabela turns to leave, swaying her hips as she does.

"Isabela," the pirate snaps, rising to his feet. "Are you mad? You're going to walk away from this? The first, the only chance you'll ever have to make yourself something real? You're only shot at real money and power? The freedom of being able to steer your own path?"

"Yup," she chirps, without looking back.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. I had her. I had her, even more than that weepy healer, I had her! I only have two more names- if I can even find the drow bitch. I can't- this isn't happening! I refuse to accept this!_ "You walk out that door and that's it," Tentoplenumitaeziro snarls at her. "Your only chance, wasted. You'll never amount to anything, never command the respect of any other captain again. Your crew will abandon you and you everything you built for yourself will crumble. And for what? For a bitch that strings you along? That wants to change you, own you?"

Isabela pauses mid-step. She tilts her head to the side, her hip going out the other way to compensate. "Huh."

"Well?" the male demands. "Are you going to throw your life away or have you recovered your wits?"

"You know, I don't recall mentioning any woman." She turns, abruptly, hurling three daggers his direction in rapid succession.

Ruckson dodges two of them the third hitting his shoulder but skidding off. "The hells?" he demands. "What is wrong with you?" Around them, patrons scatter, though a trio of Ruckson's crew are heading towards them.

She leaps a chair, drawing two more daggers. "Where is she?" Her tone is pleasant, her grin feral.

"Finnia?" Ruckson asks, tone confused. _What did I say? Aside from a great deal that was born of frustration and- what is she on about?_ "She's outside of Jalziald."

"Hawke." Isabela keeps coming at Ruckson, bringing a dagger up toward his throat as she does.

Scowling, Tentoplenumitaeziro tries to recover- it's not like her bit of steel is any real danger to him. "Your Light mistress? Teiris's sake girl, her being gone is hard to not hear about these days," he grits out between clenched teeth.

She slashes at his chest, clearly intent on damaging him. "Yeah? I got a friend who'd love to hear your take on it." _In a Zone of Truth._

The dagger skims along his chest without so much as scoring the leather. _Damnit, I can't even fight back until tomorrow! It shouldn't count as base coercion but I can't afford to risk another arbitration going against me this last in the game. Best to sow some doubt at least but this face is ruined._ "Very well, slut, me and mine'll not soon forget this," he snaps. "Just remember you had a chance for everything and cast it away." Without another word, Ruckson vanishes from her grasp.

Isabela pants, staring at the empty spot where he was. "Shit."

\---

Hawke trembles, shuddering violently. _She did it. She rebuked him._ It seems impossible, far away. She can't breathe, she can't focus on anything but the mirror. She can't get her feet back under her.

Silence whines softly and headbutts Hawke solidly in the gut to try and make her brain start working away. Hawke lets out a whimper, a line of fire tracing itself up her gut: not so much real pain as the memory of pain, a flashback overlaid onto the present briefly. "Silence," she whispers. "Best girl, what's-- what do I do?"

Silence backs up so she can look up at Hawke with her new head tilted stance. After a moment, she backs up some more and falls into a 'tussle invitation' pose. _Winter Alpha need move, need do. Play not best but better than curling into ball. Better than sad thoughts._

Hawke gives a small, broken laugh. "That's always your answer." _Isabela didn't give in. She fought him off, somehow. She chose the right answer. She really is Clan after all. I was right to trust her._

\---

Isabela doesn't quite run to Varric's office, but she does walk quite, quite briskly. Inside of an hour, everyone's gathered at Hawke's home, sitting in the parlor as Isabela runs down the story of what happened. She leaves out the details of what was said between her and Zevran. But she does conclude with, "my best guess is, that was the devil, trying to, I don't know, tempt me into... I guess he'd have asked for my soul after I was indebted to him?"

"Helene's kidnapping," Zevran says softly. "If I'd killed Black, then... he's have just strung me along until..."

"The Bright's I spoke with, the one who sent me to met that imp," Aveline adds. "Do you think..?"

Varric curses, succinctly but earnestly. "Anyone had anything strange or shady pop up since Hawke was taken?"

"Other than being pressured into offering a tithe of power to a devil during a Delve?" Wynne offers dryly.

Helene frowns. "This one was asked to participate in... illegal activities, shortly after a devil attacked Voice."

"By the person that rescued you." Zevran frowns, trying to fit together the idea that rescuing them would engineer goodwill with removing the only goad for his own behavior and coming up with confusion.

"So... that's Aveline, Wynne, Zevran, Helene, and now Isabela," Varric lists off. "Anyone else?"

"...it... it wasn't a bad thing, not like most of them but... after Gilly's... incident, one of the board members of the school offered to arrange for a tutor. But he'd have had to take Gilly, by herself, out of Nyra to met with the druid so it fell through rather quickly," Seli offers. "Merrill, Andy?"

Both of them shake their heads after giving it some thought. "Me neither," Estelle offers from the ring on Varric's hand. "Well, maybe. Probably. I've been bartering with devils for information but I've been very, very careful to keep them within limits Hawke would approve of me making for her sake. Money and information on demons primarily. A demon-bane weapon is the worst thing I've given up. I even drew the line at payments of sex, because I wouldn't want her to think I..."

"Is there any other extended clan like Lady Estelle that we have not warned?" Helene frowns as they ask, thinking it through.

"Bodan, most of the long-term members of Voice, Anders, Hawke's Light allies, Estelle's wife... hells, I even sent word of what happened to Malcolm, Carver and her grandmother," Varric says with a shrug. "No word back from the last two, yet anyway, but Malcolm replies." Hawke'll be thrilled to find out she's about to get a baby sibling, I'm sure...

"It might be wise to send word around again with everything we've learned. Check and see if they've gotten any deals or demands, maybe even suggest they come to Nyra if they're not already here," Aveline suggests.

Helene nods. "This one can write up a succinct summary to send around."

"Sounds like that's our next step then," Varric says, mulling things over. _Andy, Anders, Merrill, Estelle and myself... if Zevran's theory about this all being about torturing Hawke, breaking her... then it's Merrill or me as the killing blow. And he needs to do that soon, given that we've been hurt but rebuffed him each time. So... how do I make sure it's me? I can double up on covering Merrill- Isabela, Andy, Seli and the twins are already living here though and that's a lot of coverage. Maybe get Aveline to move in as well? but that's defensive, I need to lure the devil out. Set an ambush. I'll need bait, need something to lure the devil out, some set up that... Fuck_

\---

Hawke flops onto the bed, panting, done with her play session. Silence had been relentless the past few days, insisting on playtime every six hours or so -- driving home how out of shape Hawke was getting. This session was good; she hadn't had a panic attack about how small the space was today, which was something she didn't dare think too hard about lest another return. This is a good day. As good as days in hell ever get, anyway.

Just as Silence settles down next to Hawke with a pleased grunt, there's a quick knock at the door, then her Lady enters the room. _Verraline. Not... Focus Hawke._ The lilin gives Hawke a bright, warm smile, about to give a greeting but falters when Silence snaps to attention and growls menacingly.

"Down," Hawke blurts, surprised. "Varraline! Hi. I didn't think-- hi." _Breathe._

Silence huffs loudly, but limits herself to a basso rumble there after. And to keeping a very close eye on Verraline.

"I have to say, I wouldn't have though your mabari would be so..." Verraline trails off for a moment, then offers, "biased. But then again, I suppose I shouldn't blame an animal for not being able to see past my... Shuddering finish Hawke, what happened to you!" she blurts out. _And that should neatly cover why I didn't come back to help her earlier. If Hawke even thought of doing so, with how well I've already conditioned my little bird, the sweet thing._

Hawke looks at her blankly for a moment, then her face falls. "I look bad?" she asks, quietly. _No, don't fall for this. She's a devil. She's just like the things that hurt you. Remember that._

"You look _hurt_ , yes," Verraline corrects Hawke. "Your stomach..." she adds, voice soft and slightly pained as she stares at the strip of skin that the mortal's shirt has exposed thanks to riding up after her workout. "Are you... no, of course not, you're can't be okay. Can- do you want to... talk about it? Or I can... is there something I can do?"

"No." Her tone is firmer now, colder. "I was hurt, yes. By _devils_." It's clear what she means: by people like Varraline.

Verrline flinches at the tone, at the words- and, to her own surprise, not all of it is faked. _Why do I... she's a mark. A delicious, high value mark, but still._ "I... I see," she croaks, looking away. "I didn't... I'm sorry, I should have thought to warn you about the door, I just assumed- I assumed our Host explained and I never thought to. This is my fault, I should just go."

"It's not your fault," the hero says, a bit sharply. "But it did remind me you have ulterior motives."

"Everyone has ulterior motives Hawke," Verraline says gently. "Yes, I'll admit that using you, using us being together, as a way of annoying our Host is... petty, but that's only a small part of... this. I really, truly, enjoyed our time together. I've never been able to be with a mortal- no, anyone- in the way I was with you. As myself." _Mostly anyway. More than I ever have been. It's... almost peculiar, how anyone that would allow me to bed them in those ways, as myself, have always been the sort I couldn't let my guard down around even a tenth as much as I can with you._

She can't help herself. Her look softens, and she smiles, just a little. "Really? This isn't just some... devil thing?"

"I..." Verraline looks flustered a moment. "I mean, that's... what I am. So... yes, but it's not just about... Even if I wanted to, your soul's status is... locked. It's part of the terms of an infernal wager. That.. might be part of why I wanted to... it can't be about that, so I can just... be with you, without worrying about orders or duty."

_My soul is off-limits? That makes sense._ "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-- I've become mistrustful of late, I think."

Verraline studies Hawke for a long moment, then offers a wan smile. "I... it did hurt, but I don't blame you for it. I am what I am and it's only natural for you to be wary of me," she says quietly. _You really should be... but even if I didn't just twist you around, you probably would have felt guilty and apologized later if you could do so. You're far too sweet and loyal. Naive and gullible rather._

She lets out a long breath as that hits home. _Gods, what am I doing? Pushing away people who care for me, mistrusting them and being closed off. That's not how Clan operates._ "I'm sorry. How have you been?"

This doesn't have to be faked. "Better at being back," the lilin says firmly. "My latest, ah, client is..." She wrinkles her nose. "Suffice to say, I'd not have chosen him of my own accord."

"I'm sorry," she says softly, searching Varreline's face. "That must be hard. I can't imagine making myself go through with that."

"It's... it's what I was made for," Verraline says with a shrug. "Most of the time, it's not bad. More than half, it's enjoyable. Even when it's bad though, it's... fulfilling." She makes a face. "Spiritually anyway, far too many devil summoners are... well, their skill lies between pages, not sheets."

"You don't ever wish you were... more?" she asks softly.

"More?" Verraline asks blankly, perhaps the most honest expression Hawke's ever witnessed on the lilin's face forming at the mortal's question.

"You have so much more to offer than just your bits. Don't you ever wish people appreciated that? Treated you like you mattered? Your thoughts, your feelings...?"

"I- well, sometimes clients like the aftercare. Talking and... just touching. Not often, but..." Verraline shrugs a little, a slight wrinkle between her eyes. "It... it can be nice. But that's really only for the ones were I'm... a gift. Someone ignorant of what I am. But it's not just about my bits," she adds quickly, as if to convince Hawke. "Lilin are often sent to get information, and not just pillow talk. I... don't those jobs often. It's... some lilins are pulled for that sort of training and the longer you go without it, the less likely you ever will. I am what I am," she repeats firmly. "And you're enough. Talking with you, I mean." _Pull it back, you're getting too into your role,_ Verraline scolds herself.

"Do you want to cuddle?" Hawke asks, with a shy smile. _Gods above, it's good to hear. I know she's not really Clan but..._

"That sounds wonderful," Verraline says quickly, smiling. She moves towards the bed, then hesitates at Silence continues to stare at her intently. "She won't..." the lilin asks warily, remember the feel of the blasted beast's teeth closing on her arm.

"She'll obey," she says. "She's just twitchy about devils after we were attacked."

"I suppose I can't blame her for that," Verraline lies. "It's not like she can really understand what's going on, poor thing." Still a bit wary, the lilin sits on the side of the bed. Silence does growl softly at the move, but stands down again at Hawke's chiding rebuke. Verraline looks at Hawke coyly, then drops the expression for a slightly startled one. "I was going to try and hint but... I guess I can just ask because it's you. What kind of 'cuddling' are you interested in? Should I fetch my ropes or...?"

"I--" She blushes, looking away. "I don't... want anyone looking at me naked right now." _**I** don't even want to look at that hideous scar right now._

Verraline looks startled at Hawke's answer and asks, "wait, you actually meant just aftercare? You really don't want sex at all?" _Honestly not sure if I'm insulted or... something else._

She winces. "Not aftercare. Cuddling. It makes people feel nice even if you haven't had rough sex."

"Right, of course." Verraline flushes lightly. _Stupid, you know better than to call it that in front of someone like Hawke. She's so damn easy to talk to. But... Maybe this is a good time to ask a mortal..._ "What's the difference, aside from whether you just had rough play?"

"Aftercare is... The point is to put someone back together, draw them out of their head and ease the transition to everyday life. Cuddling is just... Nice. A different sort of pleasure. Physical contact without sexual contact.*

_Just... nice. How peculiar. And yet..._ "I see..." The lilin murmurs. "Well, not really but maybe in part? It sounds like soft foreplay but not quite the same. Warmer somehow. Is that really all you want? Your scars mean nothing to me."

"They mean something to me. Do you want to cuddle or not?" Her voice is a little harder this time.

The lilin lifts a hand to ward off Hawke's ire. "I didn't mean to- yes, I want to be with you tonight." _It's... strange, not to jump right to sex but... but... maybe it's better to switch to a soft sell, instead of disciplining my little bird,_ she tells herself as she settles in next to Hawke.

"Good," Hawke sighs, tugging her down onto the bed. "Good."

\---

When they had heard that Anders was at Summerhill Main Campus, both Wynne and Aveline had shrugged it off and assumed that was normal. After all, every year he spends some time at Main Campus: for training, to meet benefactors and sell them on the idea, to pick up patients in person for transport, et cetera. Today, however, following up on Morrigan and the guard -- Alistair? -- who was pressuring Wynne, they are quickly informed of their mistake: Anders isn't here as a _healer_ , he's here as a _patient_.

That being highly alarming, given the situation with Morrigan, they both ask to speak with him at once.

And so, they are lead to a small private chamber, seated at a table with a jug of icewater, cups, and a cheese plate; they're told to help themselves while the patient is prepared to see them. A few minutes later, Anders is lead in, and he looks...

Well, not very well.

Anders' usually rusty-blond hair is lighter, greying a little around the temples. His eyes look distant, sunken in, with bags under them as though he's seen many a sleepless night. He's wearing soft flannel, not having bothered to dress, and he has stubble showing his lack of desire to shave. His hands are bound with a soft tie, which the healer with him explains is for his own good; they're not at all worried he might harm Wynne or Aveline so much as himself. The healer bows, promising to be just outside if anything is needed, and leaves the alone, the door clicking shut with a soft noise.

Anders sits across from the ladies, his head bowed. "Afternoon."

"Anders," Wynne says softly, rising to give the young man a hug. She's not normally a very demonstrative woman, but something about his slumped posture, his haunted eyes...

Aveline shifts, a touch uncomfortable. She's only met Anders... twice? Maybe three times? And one of those was when he was being arrested during a protest where he'd defaced public property with anti-nobility slogans. So it's a touch awkward, having to comfort him right now. _Good that Wynne's here, she's worked with him before. Probably knows him best, outside of Hawke._

Anders permits the hug, but he pulls away rapidly, not comfortable with the touch. Not feeling like he deserves the comfort. _No,_ he reminds himself. _Look at it like a healer. You deserve comfort, Anders. You're just sad and guilty._ "I hope you both are well." His tone is pleasant enough, if a bit stiff, but he still can't meet Wynne's eyes, looking past her to the wall opposite.

"Well enough," Wynne says gently as they all sit. "How are you doing?" _He'd been just fine two months ago, when we attended that workshop on grief counseling. What in Alydra's name happned to him? He looks... almost as bad as he did right after his Delve so long ago._

He gives a bitter laugh. "I'm alive, thanks to Dedication. Someday maybe I'll be doing well again."

"We wanted to talk to you about... some trouble that might spill onto you," Wynne starts to explain before Aveline cuts in.

"Or that might have already done so. I'm sorry to be blunt, but can you tell us what happened? We have reason to believe that members of the Clan are being targeted and..."

He stares at Aveline blankly for a moment. "You didn't-- of course you didn't hear. I'm sorry, my assumption was that you'd heard the news and came to see me because-- well, it doesn't matter." He rakes a hand through his hair. _I don't suppose you want to handle this one, Dedication?_

_**This one will fulfill his duty. Dedication will be present.** _

_Yeah, about what I thought._

Another sigh, and he seems to collect himself: straightening his shoulders, lifting his chin a bit. "I failed a patient," he says quietly. "He died. We were... close."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Wynne says gently, reaching over to pat his bound hands. "It's always hard to lose a patient, especially the ones that touch your heart. Can you talk more about it?"

"He killed himself," Anders says, his voice soft, wounded. "Because of something I said, just after a conversation we had. He told me goodbye and I didn't hear him. I couldn't... I should have seen the signs. I was ready to sign papers to release him."

"What did you talk about?" Aveline asks, eyes narrowing. _The timing of all this... Anders is one of the two most isolated of the Clan. And Estelle has Claudia as constant and dedicated support. Damn, I knew we should have asked him to come to Nyra for the duration. He was alone and vulnerable, so he'd make a great target for someone to break in order to make Hawke suffer so she'll break. Damnit!_ "When did you meet him?"

"A-- A few months ago," he admits. "He transferred to my care. He made great strides, the-- the countryside was good for him. And he was... attractive. I struggled a little with professionalism, around him, but I kept it in check. Maybe he sensed my reluctance, the pulling back. Maybe that's why..."

_A few months ago? That's well within the right time-frame but... much longer than any of our encounters. Still... It might be interesting to get a day-by-day timeline and see how it falls..._ Aveline nods slowly. "Over that same time span, we- the Clan- have been having various encounters with a specific devil. Tossing tests, tricks, ordeals in our way. Our current theory is that it's the same devil that took Hawke and he's forcing her to watch us suffer without being able to help. To break her."

Anders makes a small, sad noise. "I'm afraid I've not been much help. I've... not been myself frequently, lately. If Hawke is watching this, she'd be..." He blinks, snorts a little. "I can picture her eyes," he says softly. "The way she'd look at me if she could see me now. The concern in her voice. She'd want to help, and it would hurt her not to be able to." He swallows. "If you're watching, Marian, I'll be alright. This is... bad, but I'll get through it. Dedication isn't like Justice, not anymore. I won't go down that road again."

"Good for you Anders," Wynne says firmly, offering a proud smile. "I promise I'll visit often, if only to keep you company."

Aveline is silent, pondering. _What if... I need to dispatch a few guards, immediately, to make sure that this was real. Using love to break Anders... that would be nearly the perfect manner to break him while doing the maximum amount of pain to Hawke._

Anders nods. "It's... surprisingly good to talk to you. I'd like that."

"I know Aveline has work to do but... if you like, I can stay a while longer," Wynne adds, glancing at Aveline.

"Please," he requests softly.


	23. Temptations: Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric has already lost the only thing he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter. You all will love it. --Yami

Varric had been working on traps for devils for weeks. He knew using the being's name to summon it would be risky; better to catch it out and about, lure it in and hold it hostage. But he was fully willing to summon it if he had to. Anything, to get Hawke back.

Thankfully, he does't have to. When his spies get word of activity at Bartrand's house, he grabs Bianca and rushes to the scene. His face is stern, his eyes hard and cold, as he kicks open the front door, scanning the foyer with his crossbow. He knows exactly what he'll find; the house where Hawke vanished has stood empty since she was taken, and he's been here multiple times. He knows the layout by now, knows the way to the secret ritual room by heart.

A few hired human thugs get in the way as he heads down the hall, but Bianca makes short work of them. Finally, when he gets to the ritual room, he comes face to face with his brother.

"Where's Hawke?" he demands, lowering Bianca to point straight at Bartrand's chest.

"You idiot," sneers Bartrand. "Did you really think I'd just _give_ her back? We're businessmen, are we not? Charity is for churches- if you want your knockoff daughter, there's a price.""

Varric's eyes narrow. "Given your current negotiating position," Bianca gleams wickedly in the torchlight, "I'd say the only price you can expect is not being shot _too_ many times."

"And how does shooting me get her back, little brother?"

"Pain mostly. You're good at talking and scheming, I'll grant you that. But you were never brave."

Bartrand slowly rises from his chair, a dark, mocking laugh pouring from him. "Brave? What need has one such as I of bravery? Not when I have-"

The dwarf doesn't even get to finish his taunt before Varric dives to the side, Bianca retorting thrice. There's a beat of silence, then a chain-covered devil falls from the ceiling before bursting into dust. "You were saying, big brother?"

Bartand's laugh has been replaced with a sickly smile. "Yes, ah, we were discussing price. Surely you don't expect me to simply fold?"

"I suspected you wanted to live, yes," he growls.

"You won't shoot me. We both know that."

Varric doesn't respond; he lets Bianca do the talking, pinning his brother to the wall by both shoulders. Bartrand's eyes go wide in terror, and he pales, realizing he's outmatched, that his isn't a problem his connections and politicking can save him from. "Alright! Alright, I'll tell you. She's... She's..."

He doesn't want to sit up. He clings to the dream, desperate to hang on just a little longer, to hear the solution his subconscious has for him -- but it's too late. The dream is fading, his conscious mind taking over once more, letting him notice the sunlight streaming through his office window. He sighs, opening his eyes, lifting his face off the pile of paperwork he was dozing in. _It was only a dream. I'll find her soon,_ he coaches himself, preparing to face the day.

\---

As it happens, it's a very good day indeed. One of his experiments had borne fruit this morning: he'd stumbled upon one of the devils that he'd seen out and about recently, the ones that had been chasing that catfolk that saved Helene, the ones that had shown up when Aveline had gone to trap that so-called Vangalite. The ones they strongly suspected were working for Hawke's captor. A little pressure applied, and the entity had squealed like a pig: not the devil's location, as it still didn't want to betray its master, but the location of its summoner.

The location of Bartrand Tethras' hideout.

It was in the undercity, of course. Nice and secure down there, and nice and cozy for a Dwarf longing for Orzammar. Leaving Aveline to protect his family, his Clan, Varric had gone with Bianca for backup to speak to his brother at long last.

The office is large, and full of paper: books, ledgers, stacks of loose parchment, scrolls. It was like a maze, creeping through it all: piles of books taller than Varric threatened to tip over at the slightest brush, but there were aisles cleared through it all to allow one to progress deeper into the lair. At the heart of it all, a familiar oaken desk, large and comfortable, and sitting at it, scribbling furiously on parchment, a familiar Dwarf.

There is a circle inscribed around the desk, likely with defensive magic built in -- likely why they couldn't scry to find him -- and he wore a huge, red amulet that somehow felt familiar despite Varric never having seen it before. The gemstone was cracked, but the pieces had been large enough to reunite at a forge, using gold to cement them back together into something approximating a whole. The whole piece had been set in gold, as well, and threaded onto a gold chain. Bartrand doesn't seem to notice Varric at first, intent on his paper. Letting Varric have the first move.

Half test, half greeting, Varric fires a shot at his brother, aiming for the back of his chair just above his right shoulder. He is mostly unsurprised to see the bolt get deflected off course with a ripple of soft blue sparks. "You don't sending, you don't write... Makes me wonder if you've forgotten about me, brother," Varric says tightly.

Bartrand jumps when the bolt impacts his shield; he looks around, but he stills when his eyes fall on Varric.

There's something terrifying about his face. It looks at once totally normal and entirely strange. His eyes; it must be the eyes. There's something wrong in his eyes, something alien and bizzare. Something fractured and reforged, like the gemstone he wears around his neck. His hands twitch, faintly, uncoordinated spasms despite the stillness of the rest of his body. A slow smile creeps across his face: the dawning of a plan, or at least the idea for one.

"Brother," he says, and his voice is wrong too. The inflection isn't quite right, like he can't manage warmth but neither can he manage humanity. "Forget you? Never."

_...there's nothing left of you, is there brother? Nothing left of the dwarf that helped me learn to use a bellows, of the dwarf that defended me from the Durmin boy as child. I'm sorry brother. Sorry for failing you, for letting you slip away and die alone._ "You look like shit," Varric says bluntly. "Been cooped up for a bit too long, I'm thinking. Why don't we go for a bit of a walk?"

"Hah! You're funny. You're a funny, funny Dwarf." He spreads his lips in something that approximates a smile, but it comes out cruel, sadistic. _I think that's gotten the point across,_ the devil wearing Bartrand's shell thinks to himself. This face hadn't even been much of a lie -- the biggest false impression was the degree of coherency, really. "How about we barter, instead? I have something you want, and you, you have something I want. Something I want very much indeed." _That something being the ability to win me this wager,_ of course.

"Barter?" Varric says idly, thinking furiously. _Barter. Bartrand would never try to go head to head with me in negotiation. He's as good as me (and Hawke) with numbers, better with (ass-kissing) schmoozing and judging the value of (dwarven) metal, gem and glass goods but he could never get as good a deal as me. And his judgement of people (especially himself) was often... well, shite. So he must think he has me over a barrel if he's willing (coward) to take this approach.. And... and if he has Hawke... then... (he's right)_

"How is it," he begins, watching Varric carefully, his face twitching faintly. "that you always come out on top? Your ability to strike up a bargain is..." He gestures with the quill, leaving the statement open-ended rather than directly state admiration he doesn't feel. "My businesses are successful, my coffers full, but still you are the better brother at bartering." _Not my brother, but he's better than Bartrand, sure._ "This time, though, this time, I intend to get the upper hand. This time I will best my opponent, at long last." _I will best you and Hawke both. I won't lose this wager._

Varric goes still, face blank. "All of this... because of petty jealousy? Because- because you suck at reading people, at realizing that cutting to the very edge of a deal every single time is bad business? Are you- Bright gods, Bartrand, you've lost your mind." He takes a deep breath. "...mother would be ashamed to see this."

He flinches, twitching back with an awkward jerk. He knows that barb is meant to sting -- let him think his points are hitting home, let him not question this circumstance. "You can't know what she'd think. Mother is _dead_." He turns his gaze back to Varric's face, seeming to refocus. "Are you willing to barter or not?"

"I'm a Tethras," Varric replies coldly, noting yet another way that Bartrand has... broken. _Neither of us were ever very religious, but while I went further from piety (until Hawke) after mother passed, you sought answers, comfort. I guess you finally gave up on (living) it._ "Speak your piece."

"I don't have the mind you have," he says, a canny, cunning look coming over his face. "But there's more than one way to obtain a mind. The deal is, I let you visit with your missing person, and you work for me. One hour visit for a year service, then we renegotiate." The terms are terrible, of course, but it's a starting place, a laying out of the pieces he's willing to bring into play. And what pieces they are...

"Oooorrrr, how about: I beat the shit out of you, drag your ass back to my Clan and then I just rescue my daughter after getting what I need to know from you." Varric's counter offer has even worse terms so neither of them are really trying all that hard yet.

"You really think that'd work?" His grin is gleeful, almost manic. "You think you know all the factors?"

_It's **variables** , you prick._ "I think I know enough of them to realize I couldn't trust you to keep breathing if you thought it'd give you a momentary advantage."

"You walk away from this deal, you really think you'll see her again?" Bartrand scoffs. "What's your real counter-offer?"

"How about... you return Hawke, mind, body and soul, free and clear of any debts to you or yours, and I let you walk from Nyra intact. I'll even buy your house and stocks off you at fair market so you can go somewhere else, far, far away from here." Varric grins, the expression having more violence than mirth in it. "And tell you what- I'll give you twenty four hours to bring her back, with each hour remaining on the clock being a month's head start before I come after you."

"And walk away from my empire? Try again," he says, his smirk fading. "How about communication with her, unlimited but remote, for your services?"

Varric clucks his tongue. "You never were much good at realizing when a person has a point they'd not budge on," he says reprovingly. "Hawke, mind, body and soul, free and clear of any debts to you or yours- that's solid bedrock. No, even bedrock can crack and shift. Until that's a fact, until that's fucking truth, then everything else has to bend for it." He studies the circle as he speaks. _Looks like it deflects anything going too fast a smidge but also outright blocks projectiles. Course, that sort of function on a ward will have a limit that can be overwhelmed until it gets a day to recharge._

"I can't give you that," he admits, every word true. If Varric takes the deal, he'll still own Hawke's soul -- and to hell with the idea of giving up his prize to win the bet. "What insurance would I have against your behavior at that point?"

"Me," he says simply. "I can do most of what you'd need hidden away. When I need to be out and about in order to met with people, you can geas me." Varric adopts a razor-thin smile. "Or if you're afraid of that, then I'm sure your... backer can arrange something even more binding. How did that come about anyway? How the fuck did you get dumb enough to barter away your very being to a bedamned devil, you stupid shit?"

"You have never appreciated my brilliance, have you?" he crows. "Your genius brother has been trading slivers -- only pieces, only bits he won't miss -- one at a time like coin, buying more and more favor for each piece."

"Are you- what is wrong with- how can you be so-" Varric takes a deep breath. "You're... I don't have the words for how stupid that is. Wise Alydra, I think that might be the single most stupid thing I've ever heard and I have heard some shit in my life."

His grin vanishes, replaced by a hard look. "Barter with me," he snaps.

Varric opens his mouth to snap back, then pauses for a split second before saying instead. "No no, I'm not done talking about how absolutely dumb you'd have to be to deal with a devil. We're talking 'pox and syphilis ravaged brain matter' levels of dumb. We're talking 'maybe one of our ancestors was merikos rock' levels of braindead. 'Eating slag right from the oven' or 'can't figure which end of a pickaxe to grab onto' levels of you're a complete and utter idiot." _Why is he so invested in making a bargain? He needs this (more than his pride), needs it bad. But why? Why now, why after having (my daughter) Hawke for months? If he was trying to make me sweat, he'd have been sending parts (he'd beg to be a devil's toy) like poor Helene or leaving more clues to give hope and then dashing it. No, something's changed, something's gone wrong (good) and he's desperate._

"Have you seen my net worth? Riches beyond measure. Success, no matter what venture I try my hand at. Lights in my back pocket levels of rich. Not so dumb now, am I?"

" **Yes!** "

"Why? If I buy it all back before I pass, what's the harm? It's just another business transaction." _For a devil._

"That's like saying, 'it doesn't matter if I sell all my food, I can buy it back later.' Not only are you starving in the meantime, even if you somehow manage to get it back, it's been turned to shit," Varric counters. _Why would you even think this would work? Selling bits of your soul... Where would you even get started? How did you get that first spark of a plan? And where the hells have I seen that gem bef- Oh. Oh you stupid, stupid greedy bastard._ He can hardly believe he's forgotten the gem; after all, he was the one who handed it to Bartrand, right after it cracked, figuring the dwarf would sell it for spell components and it'd be well away from Hawke. He couldn't have known there was still demonic taint in it, still enough power left to catch the attention of extraplanar buyers.

Something passes across Bartrand's face, and his cunning look returns. "You think I'm bluffing, don't you? You don't believe she's in danger. You think rescue is possible. Do you even understand where she is?"

Varric gives Bartrand a hard look. "I. Know. Very. Well. Where." He bites off each word- and shoots Bartrand's desk for emphasis, though the ward absorbs all four bolts before they can connect.

"Maybe we should check on her," he says, swallowing as he sits a little further back in his chair. _Let him think I'm a little afraid of him, the worm. So long as he thinks I'm more afraid of the devil._

"Oh look at who just remembered one of the absolute basics of bartering," Varric says with wide eyes and a faux-awed tone. _Right, because I'm going to trust anything you show me (please let me see my daughter) at face value._ "Sure, why not. Wow me."

Bartrand reaches into a drawer in his desk, pulling out a small hand mirror. Judging by the runes on the back of it, it's enchanted all to hell; he thumbs over a rune on the handle, and the glass fogs, then clears.

The image inside is of a small cell, just big enough to pace in. Hawke, his Hawke, sits inside, on a cot, her wrists and ankles cuffed together with iron. She looks bad. Real bad. Her skin is sallow; one eye is swollen shut, and there's a bruise on her opposite cheek. There's a look about her that'd be hard to fake: a look she has in private, a look like she's steeling herself, preparing to do the hard thing, the impossible thing, the thing that might kill her. It's not a look of despair nor a look of heroism, but instead the transitional look.

Then another figure walks into the frame, a figure instantly recognizable from his studies: a Lilin.

_"In almost any other circumstances, fuckng a lilin would have ended with you being scarred for life at best!"_ Varric doesn't close his eyes, doesn't look away. He watches. He engraves it deep in his memory. _This might not be true. This might be trick or outright lie. But it's what could be happening. It's what she could be suffering. This might be better than what's being done to her. So you watch and you remember until you know it's not. Until you've made up for trusting blood over family, for not paying enough attention to stop this before it came to this. You watch, Varric, and you remember._

The Lilin moves to sit beside her, sliding her hand up under Hawke's nightgown. Hawke stiffens, biting her lip, staring off into the distance -- not right at the sensor, but close. Then, as Bartrand thumbs over the handle again, the image goes dark.

"Could be illusion, a disguise, but I get your point well enough," Varric says in a dull tone. _Focus. Focus. Get her back, get her out._ "But it makes my point just as well- Hawke, mind, body and soul, free and clear of any debts to you or yours. Showing me how much she's suffering, could be suffering? That just makes me double down on everything."

"If we don't make a deal, you don't see her again." _Because I will murder you just before I let her go._ "I can't offer her free and clear -- I don't control any deals she makes while she's trapped." _Which is true enough. That cursed Lilin..._ "I can relinquish any debts she owes me, but you'd better be making a real good offer if you want that." _I'll word the contract that Bartrand releases any claim to her._

_As if there's any of you still in there. No, you're just a meat puppet Orizeatimunelpotnet is using as a cut-out. And to mess with me on top of it._ "Wrong," Varric says quietly. "I'll still see her in the end of things. If I have to hunt down and kill every last Phistophilus in creation, I'll get her back. If I have to lead a crusade into every layer of the Hells... I've been getting bored with just making money. I won't give up on her. I won't betray her."

"Or, you could see her again tomorrow," he snaps. "Are you really that determined to get one over on me? How is that not a betrayal, refusing to barter for her return?"

"Because I can't trust you. Or your infernal master for that matter." _Honesty. Openness. Trust. Stay together, depend on each other and have faith in the love our Clan shares. Far from what I'd've pictured my life becoming a scant decade ago but here I am._ "If you can met my minimum starting price, we can talk. Otherwise... pray."

"I told you. I only have control over me and mine." He scowls. "How about a proof of good faith? I haven't been as active in the local markets as I usually am due to all this. William Sampson has gotten the upper hand, nearly priced Bay and Creek out of the coal market. Arrange an accident for him, and I can arrange an hour conversation for you."

_A euphemism? In something like this? Oh Bartrand, you really are stupider than ever._ "Deal," Varric agrees instantly.

"So it's agreed, then? In full: You will arrange an accident that removes his life or otherwise nullifies him as a business threat to Bay and Creek, and in exchange, I will grant you an hour's remote communication with Marian Tethras Hawke?" He doesn't look eager, exactly, but he looks well pleased with this arrangement.

"Not so much, no. Accidents are one thing but a life? A hour's talk isn't worth that," Varric says firmly. "Twenty four hours with my daughter in person, with you and your master's written guarantee of safety for that duration as well as passage to and from. Unless you'd be fine with giving me a location in exchange for me having to make my own travel arrangements. In exchange, I won't _murder_ William Sampson but I will remove him as a threat to Bay and Creek."

Bartrand seems about to agree; he leans forward, peering at him closely, searching his face. Finally, he sits back. "Bah. You're a wily one, Varric Tethras. Who knows what you'd do given that much leeway? Tell you what, steal me his books with him unawares and I can ruin him myself. That's worth twelve hours in person to me."

"Twelve hours with my daughter in person, with you and your master's written guarantee of safety for that duration as well as passage to and from. In exchange, I'll take William Sampson's books without his knowledge and deliver them to you for... whatever purpose you wish. Sounds fine to me." _I'm sure he has a holy text or two I can take without him noticing. Two trips, one to find two (maybe three, just to be safe) books, then a quick shopping trip to get copies, second trip to swap them and done. Sorry you evil shit (took my daughter, hurt my family, killed my brother) but I'm not going to let you win this little contest._

"In full: You will take Sampson's business ledgers and deliver them unto me for the purposes of giving me a competitive advantage, as well as any other information you come across during the course of taking them that may provide such an advantage to Bay and Creek, and I will provide safe passage to and from Marian Tethras Hawke's current location as well as twelve hours in which to converse, and I will provide written guarantee of your safety during said conversation. Agreed?" He smirks, as if to say, _you see, I can get one over on a devil if I so choose. I'm not a rock._

"Not going to introduce yourself before we bargain?" Varric asks. "Or should I just call you Tennie?"

"What?" he asks, his face twitching faintly.

"Do you prefer Ziro?" Varric asks innocently, carefully pronouncing it as the common tongue word for numerical nothing.

Another, more pronounced facial tic. "You don't recognize your own brother, Bartrand, in the flesh?" He spreads his arms wide in a subtle, mocking gesture.

"Toply? Numit? Ori Zeal? Pot Net? I like Pot Net, makes you sound like you just hang around, hoping something falls in your lap," Varric needles him.

Teeth clenched, the newly christened Pot Net asks only, "Do we. Have. A deal?"

"Having way too much fun twitting you," Varric replies honestly. _And stalling to see if I can find an out. Maybe... hmmm..._

"If you're not interested, I can return to my dwelling. Maybe spend some quality time with this one's... _niece_."

That gets a slight wince. "Interested yes, of course I am," Varric says softly. "But not enough to betray her. I know my daughter and she'd rather die than have a deal like that made for her sake. "

"Who says she has to know?" His voice is smoother now, less familiar, more polished.

Varric smiles sadly, though his eyes are filled with love lost but loyal. "Honesty. Openness. Trust. You gonna go now or do I have to break through the ward to get what's left of my bother to bury?"

\---

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Hawke whispers, cooped up in her tiny room, cuddled up to a Lilin for comfort as she rocks back and forth, hugging her knees. "Oh, Papa, thank you, thank you," she whimpers, tears streaming down her face, unable to turn away -- at least, until she sees Bartrand's face slacken, the cunning and intelligence gone from it in an instant. Then she turns, burying her head against Varreline's shoulder, struggling to hold back tears that just won't stop. _I thought for sure that was it, he was done for._

"It's alright," Verraline whispers into Hawke's hair, gently rocking the mortal against her body. Behind Hawke's back, figuratively and literally, she gestures smoothly and sends Silence into a slumber. "It's okay. He's safe, you're okay. Love won again. It's okay, I have you. It's okay. You never should have doubted them. You're safe and loved." As she speaks, her clothing melts away and she sips her hands under Hawke's rough cotton smock to stroke skin. _How amazing, how... shockingingly strange, for mortals to resist temptation not for petty morals or fear of the gods, but for the sake of a lover. Or whatever the dwarf is to my little bird._

"It's okay," she repeats, whispering. "It's okay." _I'm here with Varraline. Papa's safe. He's really, really, safe. He's okay. It's okay. I can just... let go._

"That's right, my little bird. Safe here with me," she croons, her tail slowly winding its way around Hawke's upper thigh. "I've got you now. Let me help you, my little bird. Let me touch you, taste you, remind you what it's like to feel good. Let me love you." _Love you? How... trite. Such a sappy enticement... still, it... suits her._ "Can I do that for you? Can I make you feel good again?"

"Please," she whimpers. "Please, touch me." _Zevran, Zevran, please..._

Verrilline twists, putting Hawke mostly underneath her. She kisses her way down the mortal's face, then suckles gently on the pulse point of her neck. "Touch you how, my little bird," she growls. "Say it _properly_." Hawke's clothing is pushed aside, ripped where needed, but she's naked before Verraline finishes her command. The lilin's hands are warm, almost burning against her flesh, her grip demanding and just shy of painful. _You are mine, my little bird. I will have you, all of you. For me and me alone. I have to have you._

She opens her mouth, but she can't say it, she just can't. _This is a lilin. There's no reason to ever let her touch you like that. She--_ She whimpers, twisting a little in Varraline's grip.

"It's okay Hawke, you're safe here with me. This is my choice, my pleasure, to be with you. It's no duty or task given to me, I swear it on the Dusk All-Mother's name, She who created my race." _No, you are mine and mine alone. You, of all the souls I've corrupted, all the mortals I've tamed and taken... you, I'll keep for myself until it's time for your rebirth. And then I'll teach you everything you need to know to be a lilin and we can fuck and touch and l- laugh our way through eternity together._ "I want you. I want you to want me, to touch me and be touched, to entwine yourself with me and be sated as nothing ever could or can. Please, my little bird. Please don't reject me." _Am... am I begging her? No, that's not... I'm just baiting her, coaxing her along._ As she speaks, one hand grips a fistful of Hawke's hair, bearing the mortal's throat to her lips, while her other hand cups an somewhat reduced buttocks. _She's wasting away... my little bird, I promise I'll take better care of you._

_I was wrong, over and over. I thought my Clan would fall. I thought they would fail me. I thought I couldn't rely on them. How can I now turn away someone who--_ "Fuck me," she whispers, closing her eyes. "Please, fuck me. Take me. Make me forget everything for a little while."

_Yes! You are mine, my little bird._ "Now now, my little bird," Verraline purrs, her tail sliding through Hawke's cleft agonizingly slowly. "You have to beg properly. You know the right words..."

_Ah._ "Please, Lady," she whimpers.

"That's a good girl." Verrline lightly clamps her teeth down on Hawke's neck, then quickly licks the spot. _I need more. I need her, need her to accept me as hers._ "You're mine, body and heart, my little bird. If only for tonight, everything you are belongs to your Lady." With her lower hand, she spreads Hawke's lips so her tail can work its way in smoothly. "Say it. Promise yourself to me for tonight, my little bird. Just for tonight." _For now. For now, just tonight is enough. I'll win her for myself forever in due time. But I need this._

"Ah! I am-- I am yours, tonight," she whimpers, tightening around the tail in a desperate attempt to cajole motion.

Verraline's breath hitches and her entire body shudders, much to Hawke's favor. Not enough, but pleasurable nevertheless. "Yes, my very own little bird," she whispers, lifting her head to kiss Hawke deeply. _So much better than before. So much more... everything._ "I'll take such very good care of you, I promise. Such good care of you." Her hand drifts back, sliding up and over the swell of Hawke's bum to stroke her back. "Lift your hands to the bedframe and hold fast, my little bird." _What shall I do to you first? I think just bindings and teasing for the first hour. Then again..._ She looks into Hawke's eyes, at the desperate need for comfort and forgetfulness. _But... maybe a reward now, for being so... pleasing._

"Yes, Lady."

\---

Varric would know that scream anywhere. High, tight, full of panic and agony, but it's _her_ scream, his daughter's scream, and it doesn't matter, he's on his feet running out the door before his brain catches up with him.

She's tearing down the street, covered in blood, wearing only a thin cotton nightgown, almost like a hospital gown. Her hair is cut close to the head, matted with blood. She runs barefoot, leaving bloody footprints on the cobblestones, and the lilin from the mirror is in hot pursuit, laughing, the bitch is laughing.

Strangely, Varric has taken to the habit of walking around with a devil-bane, holy crossbow bolt. For reasons. Nearly as expensive as a heavily enchanted crossbow despite being a one-use item. Costs more than more than three quarters of any city-state would earn in their entire lives.

He doesn't spare a thought before firing it at the bitch, catching her right in the throat. "Hawke!" he shouts, making sure she sees him.

She pivots, a look of relief coming over her as she runs toward him. She's gasping for breath by the time she reaches him; the bruises from before are faded a little, but not much, and she's probably not been moving around much if she's been in that little room this whole time. She doesn't hesitate a moment before throwing herself into his arms, holding on tightly.

Bianca mists into his glove as he gathers her close, eyes darting about to make sure the lilin was the only pursuer. It had taken another, normal, shot after the first to put the bitch down, but all in all, he considers the money well spent. "Hawke- where- are you hurt? Are there more coming?"

"Yes," she says, her voice tight. "It can take me back, with its magic," she says, breath ragged. Pausing just long enough to be considered a separate sentence. "I ran." A deep breath. "Please, help me. Please. It's coming for me." _This 'it' being another of my servants, of course._

"Right." _Where to? Astea. Need to get to the temple. Sacred ground, right to the inner chamber._ "Grab hold of me and don't let go," he says quickly, already going for his infusion pouch to get what he needs for an Overland Flight dose.

"He'll notice soon." _Varric will notice I'm not who I pretend I am._ "Please, there's a way you can stop him." _By not making a deal with me._ "Contract devils often work off deals, off replacing one deal with another." _Also legitimately true_. "If you-- if you say the words, and mean them, it will end this whole thing." _The bet will be over._ "I will be free, if you say them." _Because I'll have won._

Varric stills. _Just say the words? What are you talking about, (daughter mine) Hawke? Say what wor-_ "What words?" he asks carefully, still not moving.

"The words are, say his name, then, 'I offer myself. Take this mortal in exchange for the one in my arms.'" She shudders as she says it, but clings to him still, her breathing still too fast. "He'll hear you, because of your being so close to me."

_She..._ His eyes close, pain and loss flooding him and leaving him paralyzing for an agonizing moment. "I... I understand," he whispers softly. "Tentoplenumitaeziro." He pauses, the name sounding sour and wrong on his tongue, and pushes himself away. "Go fuck yourself."

"D-daddy?" she whimpers, pulling back to search his face. It's a great imitation -- the look of terrified bewilderment looks almost real.

Varric laughs hollowly, Bianca reappearing in his hand. "Hawke was far too old and me far too crusty for that to feel right for either of us. Not bad with the expression though." _Shoot him. Shoot him (Hawke's face) right now. If you do a full volley, you should be able to kill it (not Hawke, it's not), banish it from the Material Plane and crack its power. Just lift and pull. Lift and pull dammit! (Kill her again with the same-)_

"It would work, you know. You trade yourself and she appears back here, right where you're standing now. Think it over. You know where to find me." She takes two steps back, then vanishes, as suddenly as she appeared.

Bianca snaps up. A deep breath. A hand trembles.

"Honesty. Openness. Trust."

A choked gasp.

"Honesty. Openness. Trust."

A sob.

"Honesty. Openness. Trust."

The sound of wood and metal dropping to the ground.

"Honesty. Openness. Trust."

The nearly silent sound of tears falling.

"Honesty. Openness. Trust."

_"Please."_


	24. Temptations: Estelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estelle herself is missing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional content warning: rape (simulated), plus a continuation of the dubcon situation with Verreline

Hawke spends the next week in Varraline's arms. Her Lady doesn't leave her, not for a minute; they watch the next few attempts, all of them lackluster compared to the Bartrand attempt, compared to the one she didn't see. They talk, they sleep, but mostly, they fuck. She can't help herself; just the lightest of touches awakens her skin hunger, sends it roaring into ever pore of her flesh, drives her to desperation even without the massage oils Varraline had used the first time. To go this long without her lovers... it had been four or five times as long as the previous longest dry spell, ever since she first met Zevran and learned what sex was.

 _At least I know I can call it quits_ , she thinks to herself, curled up in Varraline's arms. _If I'm an addict, I don't care anymore. I need this like I need sunlight, like I need food._ Neither of which she'd had since the wager began, of course -- a ring of sustenance would keep her alive, but not feed her, not add flesh to her bones or sate her hungers.

And it shows, just like the scars over her body: three piercings, innumerable small cuts and jabs and love bites, her hair dyed silver to match Varraline's, all reminders of who she belongs to, whose arms she sleeps in night after night. Who loves her most.

 _Not fair_ , she chides herself, curled between silk sheets and the silky skin of her lover. _They'd be here if they could._ But her Clan is so far, so far away, and Varraline is here. So what if she is a little selfish, for a little while? Is it really so wrong to want nice things? To want to be held?

"Again, my loving bird," Verraline whispers longingly as she strokes her human from neck to bum.

"I love you, my Lady Verraline. My heart, my love, my body are yours. I love you, my lilin lady."

Verraline shudders, the words soothing a part of her scrapped raw by... _I'm not sure what. Or when it happened. But this... this is what I want, more than anything. My little bird, content and loving, in my arms. In my bed. Our bed. Forever and always._ "Again," she whispers, taking Hawke's ear in her teeth and biting down, just enough to draw blood.

"I love you, my Lady Verraline. My heart, my love, my body are yours. I love you, my lilin lady."

 _Yes. My little bird... my Hawke._ "Are you warm enough, my little bird?" At Hawke's nod, she smiles. "I'm glad. I want you happy and content with me. Forever with me, my love." As that word slips from her lips, Verraline stills. _Did... No, that's impossible. It's just... habit. Mortals like hearing that word, my little bird especially, and I want to make her happy. That's all. Devils can't love. This is just desire and covetousness. Perhaps some vague affection but nothing real, nothing... nothing like she feels for me._ "Kiss me," she demands, needing to distract herself.

Before they can progress any further, Tentoplenumitaeziro arrives with a loud cracking noise. "I demand arbitration for false adherence!" he thunders.

"Yes, my Lady," Hawke whispers, before her brain catches into gear. She sits up, shaking her head. "Go fuck yourself," she says louder. _Why is my head in such a fog?_ "What for?"

"You have given invalid information, the name of one that is dead or false," Tentoplenumitaeziro says in a tightly controlled voice. "I name Girgaatmaonkericorda as arbritar."

~That's a trick, my little bird,~ the voice of her Lady slips into her mind like a soft caress. ~Girgat lost a wager to... him a decade ago and owes nine times nine years of service. Ask for a random damned soul to arbitrate.~

"You can't have an arbiter in your debt. What name is false? I gave no such name." It's hard to think through what she plans to say; her thoughts come back-to-front, or sideways, a muddled jumble in her head. She should have said that in the other order. Or not tipped her hand about Lady helping her. But why wouldn't Lady help her? She's her Lady.

Tentoplenumitaeziro glares at Verraline, who just smiles at him innocently, then shifts to Hawke is mostly in her lap, both females facing the contract devil. "There is no living mortal by the name of Estelle that is part of the Emerison Famiglia," he grits out.

Verraline's tail curls around Hawke's waist possessively as the lilin begins to plan how to best defend her lover. The tip of the tail preses into Hawke's left hand as she sends, ~squeeze once for yes, twice for no. Is Estelle a real person?~

She squeezes. "Of course there is. I fucked her too many times for her to be a ghost." At least she can manage sass.

"I checked every, single, member of Emerison Famiglia and none of them are named such. I employed a dozen diviners, mortal and otherwise, and none of them can locate this-this falsehood. She. Does. Not. **Exist**!" the contract devil roars.

~Well. He looks upset. Alright, it's not your fault he can't find her but if he presses for arbitration, then you'll have to be able to prove she does exist. Can you do that?~ _Worst to worst, I can call in a favor or two to follow up on whatever my Hawke says without abandoning her here to be alone._ Verraline's tail tightens around Hawke's middle and her hands drift down to caress the mortal as if to reassure herself Hawke is still there, still hers.

"The hells were you looking?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Everywhere," Tentoplenumitaeziro snaps. "I found the Emerison Famiglia in the city of Gioiulloscuro Estatepoltia but not only do they lack any drow, male or female, by that name, none of them have ever so much as met you. And no two drow Famiglias share the same name. _Ever_."

~Oh dear, that must have cost him a fair bit to determine,~ Verraline comments with glee, gently scraping her nail around the edges of Hawke's cleft. And then laughs almost silently as Tentoplenumitaeziro's eyes dart away from the sight.

"Oh. I see the problem." _Cost him a fair bit. Ah! That's-- mm._ She swallows. _Focus. Cost him. That means something._ "I could clear up the confusion for a price," she blurts, not having a plan.

~That's good, my little bird. You're learning well,~ her Lady says proudly. ~I know it's hard to focus but you have to learn how to use your body to tempt and distract. I'm here for you, I promise I won't let him hurt you.~ _I... I mean that. No bargain, no deal, I just... she's mine. Of course I don't want her hurt. Damaged._ ~If you need help, just dig your nails in a little.~

"For a- you are obligated to do so! In fact, I should be given compensation for your stupidity!"

"I am obligated to give you a n-name, not a l-location." She takes a deep breath. "Th-there's a b-book. Ah. Helene mentioned a book."

~A book?~ Verraline asks neutrally. ~Am I not... entertainment enough?~

Tentoplenumitaeziro pauses. _I could push for arbitration... if I win it, I can declare the name a forfeit and win instantly. But if this... Estelle really exists- and the disgusting mortal is in no condition to lie, even spoon fed by her slut mistress- then she could do the same and also win._ "Go on," he says tightly.

Hawke swallows. _For Helene. To make up for their finger. I got their finger cut off, I can-- I have to make amends._ A deep breath, trying to clear away the shame and guilt (and pleasure) and focus. "G-give me the book you t-tempted Helene with and I will t-tell you where Estelle is. G-give me any other books you have on the t-topic and I will explain why you c-could not find her."

Verraline frowns slightly, then relaxes, her finger dipping inside Hawke for a second. ~It won't make it up to them. Not really. But... I suppose it doesn't hurt to try, just a little,~ she adds, unable to deliver that cruel barb untempered. ~And I can help you.~

"The book for her location and an explanation," the devil counters. "For any other books directly related to the subject of the journal, I demand a guaranteed means of contracting them that I can use and a quick but useful suggestion on how to make first contact."

 _It won't make it up to them. It won't. It won't. I can never make it up to them._ "The book then. I c-can't contact m-much of anyone from h-here myself, l-let alone--" _He gets the idea. So easy to let the words flow away._

Tentoplenumitaeziro's frown deepens. "You need not give me the means to contact then, merely explain where I can find such. However... very well, we can bargain again for more if you can focus past your disgusting urges," he says with as sneer. "The journal I tempted the mortal Helene with in exchange for the final name of our wager's location and an explanation of why I could not find her. Do we have a deal?"

~Specify it has to be intact and unaltered,~ her Lady guides her, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, then licking and nibbling her way up to Hawke's ear.

"Intact," she whimpers. "Unaltered. In no way should the contents be obscured. But otherwise yes."

The devil rolls his eyes but repeats the deal with the right modifications. ~Very good, my lovely little bird. Oh I'm so proud of you. Go ahead and agree.~ Verraline curls her tongue around the slight point of Hawke's ear, then sucks on it lightly.

"Agreed." She pulls free of Varreline for a moment to collect herself. "Estelle is the heir of the _surface_ Famiglia Emirison. They recently split from the underground version. She can likely be found in Robijan Enclave."

Verraline pouts slightly, but lets her go- just a little. _She's still learning how to think while feeling. We can work on it. Happily._

"Surface- Where is Robijn Enclave located?" Tentoplenumitaeziro asks almost tiredly.

Hawke gives a rough estimate, including the direction and distance from Nyra. _Sorry, Estelle. I hope you're prepared. Don't let me down?_

~She's drow, exiled or not. I'm sure she'll be fine,~ Verraline assures Hawke. _Actually... isn't that where Tenachka is? That... explains a lot, come to think of it. And... hmmm. Just to be safe, I'll ask after He leaves._ ~Very good, my little bird. And now for your reward, I think.~ Not sparing a glance for Tentoplenumitaeziro, Verraline starts fingering Hawke's cleft with firm, twisting motions. Shifting, she also begins to suck on the mortal's ear again, intending to drive her to climax as rapidly as possible.

Tentoplenumitaeziro adopts an expression of intense disgust and loathing and he starts to vanish but... "Do you wish to bargain for the other books?" he snaps, averting his gaze but unable to not hear what is occurring.

A devious plan crosses Hawke's mind. "Ah! I-- I m-m-might! I j-j-ust c-can't f-focus right n-now. Mm! Th-this sh-shouldn't t-t-take l-long, h-h-h-old t-tight."

~Oh that's going to earn you a very lovely night,~ Verraline purrs happily, her tail pulling free of Hawke's hand to slither around Hawke's body and press its way inside her. ~His expression is marvelous, thank you little bird for this moment.~ Strangely, her mental voice is more... touched, content than cruel or satisfied. As if she was reacting to a lover's gift instead of a pet learning her lessons. The fingers twisting inside Hawke speed up, carefully brushing gently against that special little rough spot deep inside.

Tentoplenumitaeziro spins in place, putting his back to the pair of rutting beasts. "I will return shortly," he says after less than a minute, starting for the door.

"W-wait! I-I-I f-ffeel a d-d-decision c-c-oming o-on!"

Verraline can't help but let a giggle slip out. ~Someone needs more experience if you think that's a 'decision' my love.~

The contract devil pauses out of habit- walking away to drive in a sense of urgency is a common trick but in this case, it's on him. He glances over his shoulder, face a twisted combination of blanch and sneer. "I doubt your precious Clan will even want a vile, filthy, shameful thing such as you back. They wouldn't be so loyal if they could see you right now I suspect."

~Remember, he can lie to you,~ Verraline whispers instantly. ~And I want you. I have you, safe in my arms. You deserve this pleasure, this... reward,~ she adds, thumb pressing firmly against the tiny cold iron hoop that now adorns Hawke's clit.

Under the wave of pleasure that floods her as she lets go _(planned this, knew he'd look back, watch me you sick fuck)_ Varraline can detect a small, secret, hint of a message. Aimed at her? Despite the bliss? Hawke really is talented.

_(he's right. I am filthy. I am shameful.)_

~Filthy maybe but... that's not a bad thing. Not to me, my little bird. I'll accept you no matter your perversions and desires. Always and forever, my Hawke. I swear it on my true name Tantraconcusiscentiæ.~ Verraline gently guides Hawke through her bliss, making sure it lasts as long as possible without breaking the mortal. Once she's finally done, lax and loose against her Lady's body, she tilts Hawke's head to the side so she can steal a long, tender kiss.

"Are you done or not?" Tentoplenumitaeziro demands.

"Yeah," she says lazily. "You can fuck off, I am not helping you get to my loves."

Tentoplenumitaeziro's skin darkens and he draws in a breath to deliver a blistering reply- only to choke it off and head for the door when he sees Verraline has taken Hawke's hand and guided it between her own legs. ~Poor baby, he seems a touch upset,~ the lilin says with a tone of deep sorrow that practically oozes with sarcasm. Once the door closes, she removes her hand from Hawke's cleft and stills her tail so Hawke can clear her head a bit.

Hawke laughs, actually laughs, for the first time in months. "Ciren's nutsack, that was great. Thank you, Varreline." She leans over, planting a kiss on the lilin's cheek.

Verraline blushes lightly, then squeezes her thighs together to make sure Hawke keeps her hand in place. ~I enjoyed it as well,~ she replies softly. ~It was... nice, to be able to help you that way.~ She casts her gaze over Hawke's shoulder for a moment. ~Don't reply out loud. Kiss my lips for yes, kiss my jawline for no. And suck on my ear for 'go on' or explain. Understood?~

Hawke, fingers still busy, shifts to nibbling on Varraline's earlobe, then gives it a single distinct suck.

~Oh that's nice... Estelle- she lives with Tenachka, doesn't she? A bound lilin?~ Her tone, soft and lazy in the first, shifts to slightly wary for the last question.

Hawke freezes, her hand stilling, growing a bit cold to the touch. _Tenachka. What am I doing? What is this-- is that why I'm so comfortable with a lilin? With Varraline? How is this any different? I-- (a knife in her hand, turning it, the bolt knocking it aside just before Aveline hits her) I can't be doing this. I can't do this. I can't--_

 _Fuckfuckfuck!_ ~Hawke, please trust me, please, I'm begging you, I swear I don't want to hurt you, I swear it. I want to help! Please I can help you get free, please trust me a little more,~ she begs, pressing her face into the crook of Hawke's shoulder. ~Please my little bird, please don't leave me.~

 _She can get me free. Varraline can get me free._ She takes a deep breath, lets it out, feels the panic subside a little. _Trust her. She's trying to help. She's helping. It's no different than when you used to fear Andy because he was a tiefling, or how Zevran fears Estelle for being Drow. There is good in every race. Papa was wrong._ Another deep breath, letting it out. Slowly, she brings her free hand up to pet Varraline's hair, before reaching to pinch her earlobe just a bit.

~Thankyouthankyouthankyou,~ Verraline sends all in a rush, deeply unsettled by how... utterly panicked the thought of losing Hawke made her. ~I- Okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, not like that. Pain should be good not- not that. Give me a moment, please, I need...~ The lilin snuggles closer, arms wrapping around Hawke tightly, along with her tail, but for once... well, it seems Verraline is getting an idea on what cuddling is about. Aside from how she's still rocking her hips ever so slightly against Hawke's hand. Work in progress.

Hawke holds her, gently, petting her hair soothingly. She doesn't move her hand, not now, but she doesn't pull it away, and it warms, slowly, back to body temperature.

Verraline shudders softly, her body slowly relaxing as Hawke's body warms. ~Thank you,~ she sends after a minute of the two just cuddling. ~I... I put out word, earlier, about who had you. His name. If you want- Tenachka is an old... well, not friend. Not really, I've never had a real friend, not like you before but she- I mean, she's an ally.~ The lilin growls slightly, annoyed with herself and how badly she's doing handling this offer. _This could have been it, this could have been the deal that binds us together forever, but I can't..._ ~I can get word to your- to this Estelle, via Tenachka. It- it won't be sa- easy.~

Hawke leans forward, kissing Varraline enthusiastically. At the same time, above and beyond their arranged signal, she thrusts a finger inside Varraline, her thumb grazing over her clit gratefully.

Verraline moans into Hawke's mouth, thighs tensing as the walls around Hawke's finger clamp down. ~I...~ _Make the deal, Tantraconcusiscentiæ. Make the deal and set the path to having your little bird forever._ ~I can't tell her about the Wager, that's forbidden. But if you could pass on a message to her, what would it be?~ _I- I'm just laying the groundwork. I'll set a price. Just baiting the hook so she can't resist._ Needing to have some control back, the lilin lowers her hands to knead Hawke's bum.

Hawke pulls her mouth back, working on Varraline as she considers what to send. _I owe her, for this. At the very least, the Clan stories. The important ones. She's Clan now, like it or not, she deserves the stories and mottos. I-- What to send to Estelle? Be wary of strangers, I think. Gods above, that I'm alive. That I'm safe enough. That I'll be home soon. Pass that along to Papa._

~Wary of strangers, you're alive, you're safe... you'll come... home,~ Verraline repeats, sounding reluctant and a bit forlorn at the end. ~Is... is that what you want to say? To this Estelle?~

Surprised, and pleased, Hawke nods. _Tell her I'll bring a new clan member-- if, I mean, if you're okay with that._

Verraline goes utterly still. ~You- they would accept-~ Verraline shakes her head. ~Hawke... that's.... that's not...~

 _They will. I'll make them understand. They'll be grateful to you, Varraline, you-- you've been such a help, you're the only thing keeping me together some days. I owe you so much. (No debts between us) I am so grateful to you,_ she corrects herself.

Verraline continues to be still, her... soul, for lack of a better word, in turmoil- a very, very unpleasant state for a being of order and regimentation. "You break me," Verraline finally says aloud, her voice small and uncertain.

 _("You break me, amata")_ Hawke presses her lips to Varraline's, passionately, trying to shove every bit of love and gratitude she has through her mouth.

~Can...~ _If I do this... no, I can't I can't let this go. I can't risk her leaving me._ ~Promise me you'll never stop loving me? No matter what?~ Varraline begs as she desperately kisses Hawke back. ~I'll save you, I swear it on my true name Tantraconcusiscentiæ. Just promise me that you'll always love me.~

 _That's no trouble. I still love Rosemary, after all she did. I don't think I know how to not love someone._ Hawke gives a self-deprecatory laugh when she pulls back. _I love you, Varraline. No. I love you, Tantraconcusiscentiae._ She thinks the name without any of the mental shuddering mortals usually use; it's a caress, a whispered promise on the skin of a lover.

Verraline growls softly and suddenly twists to pin Hawke underneath her. ~Then we have an accord. A message of warning and hope to Estelle in exchange for your love forever,~ the lilin whispers as she bites down on Hawke's neck, marking the mortal as hers.

 _My love, my Lady, my own love,_ she coos, reaching up to pull the lilin toward her.

"Mine," Verriline growls between her teeth as her tail begins to pump in and out of Hawke again. ~My little bird, forever. I'll show you every pleasure, every delightful pain and exquisite torment. I'll teach you to embrace your lust, your shameful nature and your desperate need for moremoremore. I'll never abandon you, never let you go, I promise. Forever and always, I'll hold you close and keep you at my side.~ Her hands grip at her mortal lover, searing and rough. ~Now thank you Lady for her love.~

"Thank you, Lady," she whispers aloud, face already flushing with pleasure.

\---

Helene bursts into Varric's office shortly after their call with Estelle, a new hopeful light in their eyes. "Gather everyone, I have news."

And in under an hour, everyone is gathered in Hawke's parlor. Not that it's hard to gather everyone these days; Helene, Isabela, and Zevran are typically hiding at Voice, while only Aveline and Varric go out into the streets anymore, the rest residing for their own safety at Hawke's. They eagerly listen as Helene outlines the scope of things: They had spoken to Estelle at the usual appointed time, but instead of research notes, Estelle had passed along a message from the hells, claiming to be from Hawke. "This message came from a Lilin," Helene notes, "via another Lilin named Tenach'ka, bound into the service of Matriarch Emirison. It references a [gut]," they add, using the Dwarven word, "which we believe to be a sign of authenticity."

"The rest of it is in elven- which is another sign, because Tenachka knows that tongue is... unwelcome here and wouldn't use it unless she had to," Estelle adds from Helene's finger.

"What- what did it say?" Aveline asks in a tight voice, the first to be able to speak.

"Don't trust anyone new for another week. I'm alive and safe, even my gut. Please be well. I love you all. I'm sorry," Estelle recites in common, just for simplicity. And because she feels strange speaking elven.

Merrill beams, ecstatic at first, then goes pale at the end. She starts hyperventilating as memories rip into her. _"I love you all." The heavy twang of a drawstring. The wet thud of a bolt crushing through bone._

"Hawke no," Varric says brokenly, eyes distant and hurting. _Honesty. Openness. Trust. Please. I have to- we- we all- we did want You asked- please-_

As Helene looks around in confusion, Isabela's the one to say it, her voice small, almost pitiful: "She's not coming home." Only one person assembled has heard her voice sound that way in her entire life. Isabela's hands shake, and she clenches them together in her lap. _After all this, after all we did, please, she has to come home. After all I gave up, she has to come home. She has to._

"Don't say that," says Anders immediately, swallowing. "We have to have faith in her."

"That... that's how she... that's what she said right before... dying for our sake," Varric whispers. "She... she's going to..."

Merrill lets out a soft keen, unwilling to hear Varric finishing his sentence, then gratefully lets darkness take her away. Aveline catches the elf, holding her close. "Varric, you can't... maybe it's just- that's not an uncommon sentiment," she tries.

"A week," Andy says, expression tight. "She said not to trust strangers for a week. Does that mean- that's a time frame. We can- after that, something changes. What?"

"A deal begins- or ends," Estelle suggests weakly. "With devils, big changes are always a result of a deal."

Zevran is hunched over, hands blindly reaching out in both directions to grip Isabela and Helene by the hands.

"But," says Helene in a tiny voice. "But... but Astea said... and Alydra didn't-- didn't say she... didn't say it wouldn't..."

Isabela takes Zevran's hand, crushing it tightly. "We have each other now. Maybe.."

"Right, exactly," Aveline says stoutly. "We can't give up faith now, not after all this time. Helene, do you think you can risk another Communion?"

Helene nods. "If there's a way to save her-- for Hawke, anything. Anything." A pause, as they collect themselves. "Anything but betraying Alydra," they correct.

"Of course," Aveline says gently, though a part of her wonders what she would do if... "Alright. Then... in a week, we cast another Communion and ask for more guidance."

"Six days," Zevran says quickly. "Just in case the message is a little old."

"I could do a divination," they say, softly. "To find out if she's... in danger of... I can only see a week out but..."

"Well, that's perfect," Zevran says quickly. "Is it- if you can do it every day, until- until she's back, then..."

Helene nods. "Of course. I will do so at once. I had been-- This one had been looking for information about Hawke but had not been able to obtain anything of much use until we began researching devils."

"You've been a great deal of help," Aveline assures Helene. "You stood firm when tested perhaps the worst of us," she adds, eyes dipping to the small oracle's diminished hand.

Zevran shudders a little, then pulls up Helene's hand to press a kiss to the back of it. And then Isabela's, just for good measure.

"This one is--" They cut off before saying broken or wrong, instead saying, "This one does not love so deeply as other Clan members. But perhaps that is why this one can serve now. This one can hold fast in the face of adversity."

"Bullshit," Zevran says succinctly. "You love just fine."

\---

_"Hawke?" Her papa's face was confused, a little wary. He was unsure what she wanted, but she knew he would trust her. They're in his office, sitting on the loveseat, and his face is just the same as when he thought she might be lying to him but he wanted to trust her so he asked her to make sure but she was lying, just before his face crumpled._

_"Please," she whispered, reaching out to touch his face gently. "I need this. I'm sorry, I can't, I need this so much, please, Papa."_

_"Hawke, what do you need? What is it? You know I'd do anything for you." His face was still wary, still guarded. She pressed her lips to his, forcing him backward until he was lying on the couch, her straddling him, forcing her tongue into his mouth. Now he struggled, trying to force her off him._

_"No! Hawke! I don't want this!"_

_"I need it, Papa. I need this feeling. I need us to be Clan, really Clan."_

_She was naked, straddling his stomach; she heard him shout her name, as though from a great distance, as she lowered herself onto him, shutting him up with her mouth, forcing her tongue into his mouth. He stopped struggling as she rode him, taking pleasure from him, as though he were nothing more than a dildo, nothing more than a toy for her pleasure. When she pulled back, his eyes were Varraline's eyes, dull and distant._

_"Do you need more of me, daughter mine?"_

Hawke sits upright, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face as she wraps her arms around herself tightly, rocking in bed. _Papa, Papa!_ She whimpers, ice covering the surfaces of the room. She's naked. Did she-- did Varric--?!

"Little bird?" Verraline asks with concern, hands moving to caress and tempt. _That.... was a very strange dream. Reading dreams is always very chaotic but I truly cannot understand what to make of that one._ "It's alright, you're safe here with me, it's okay," she adds in a croon. "Your Lady has you."

"Don't, don't touch me, don't," she whimpers. "Can't breathe," she adds.

The lilin narrows her eyes and her voice hardens. "You do not order _me_ , little bird." Shifting, Verraline pins Hawke to the bed, the mortals hands lifted up to be bound to the bed frame. "I think you need punishment... and for more than just your disrespect. What shameful dreams were you having, to be so... wet?" she demands, sliding a cunningly oil-dampened tail between Hawke's lower lips.

_Wet?_

Her mind stutters, grinds to a halt, fixating only on that word. _Wet? That dream made me... wet?_

There's fear, and horror, and shame. She doesn't notice or care when Varreline binds her hands, doesn't look at the lilin, doesn't, can't care about what's happening between her legs -- or the way her hips buck a little, as her body falls into a pattern without her mind's input. _Wet. For Varric. For rape. For..._

"Ah, that's better," Verraline purrs into Hawke's ear. "Focus on me, on my touch. That's all you need, all you have." Gently, softly, subtly, she sends, ~all you deserve.~

"Obey me, little bird and your Lady will take care of you," she tempts Hawke, hands coming down to spread Hawke's thighs so she can press their cores together. Grinding against her lover, the lilin sucks and bites on Hawke's ear. "I have you, my lusty little bird. I'll accept you, no matter what dirty little desires you harbor in that filthy, wonderful mind of yours." _Not your Clan, just me. I'm your Clan now. I'll make sure of it. I won't lose you, not to anyone._

 _That's all I need,_ Hawke's mind echoes. _That's all I have. That's all I deserve. I'm filthy. I am broken. I am disgusting. I am shameful. I am a rapist. I am a devil-fucker, a devil-lover. I am a sadist. I am filthy. Gods, gods, Astea, please, take me away from this. Take me away from being myself. Make me the person Papa wants me to be. Make me the person he sees in my shell. Not this hideous, disgusting, filthy creature._

"None of that," Verraline croons, biting down hard enough to draw a few beads of blood.. "You are what you are, lustful and filthy. That's okay." She pulls her tail back a little, then slides it fully into Hawke so the arc of it presses into her own cleft. "I love you anyway. No, I love you because you're that way. You're my little bird, my dirty, selfish slut and I'll take care of you even if others won't." _That's right, my love... ly little bird. Cleave to me, only me. I can make you happier than they can... I have to. You're mine and I can't lose you. Love me, I need you to love me._

 _Varric is far away, and safe. I could just let go, become this filthy monster. For a time. Varraline won't care. She didn't even care if I raped her, she-- she loves me anyway. She loves me this way, even this wretch._ Little Bird chokes back a sob, closing her eyes.

"That's right," Verraline assures her. "You're mine, forever and always, my lusty little bird. It's okay. Just let go and I'll take care of you. I'll take such good care of you, I promise." _Love me Hawke. Stay with me._ Desperate for more, the lilin slips a little and shapeshifts in front of Hawke. Well, into Hawke, as she creates another tail to push its way into Hawke's bum. Still not enough, she moves one hand up to pull and twist the cold iron bar she'd... convinced Hawke to let pierce her nipple. ~Look at me, little bird. Look at me and say the words.~

"Use me," she whimpers. "Make me forget. Love me."

"Beg for it," Varreline nearly sings with joy. "And do it properly, my little bird, my slutty, perverted beloved." _That's right, my little bird, want only me, need only me. Be mine, forever. I'll take care of you, keep you safe and content. Teach you everything you need to be with me, at my side, as we grow in power and prestige until one day we can rule an Infernal Dukedom together._

Hawke lets go.

"Please, please, fuck me, please my Lady, use me, break me, destroy me, remake me, make me yours. Lady, Lady, Lady. Please. Please. I am yours."

\---

Over the next several days, this is the shape of Hawke's life: begging, screaming, biting, sucking, tearing into flesh with her nails, being torn into by claws. Whips, ropes, needles, paddles. Every perversion imaginable; she stops saying no, stops trying to remember her boundaries, stops asserting her will. At times, Varraline wonders if she has a will any longer.

For a few blessed moments here and there, she seems to drift off -- but always awakens with a start and a gasp, throwing herself back into frenzied, desperate sex once more. The silken sheets become stained with blood, urine, fluids, and she doesn't seem to notice, let alone care. Her face grows more gaunt, more drawn, but she doesn't seem to care. More, she demands, begs for. More, more more.

Until Varraline realizes that she's not getting a response from her little bird anymore. The ropes she's suspended over the door are straining to hold up her weight -- and upon closer inspection, her feet aren't bearing any of her body weight any more. Her hands are turning purple from the constriction of the ropes, her forehead resting against the back of the door, blood trailing from the whip marks on her back, and she's not responding, not conscious. For a brief moment, she wonders if she's killed her. Panics. Cuts her down, gets her to the bed. Shouts in her ear, slaps her, but she can't rouse her for a long, heart-stopping moment.

Then Hawke shifts, a little, and a hint of a groan escapes her lips. When Varraline presses her ear to Hawke's mouth, she repeats the syllable:

"More."

 _What... what did I do?_ Verraline stares dully at Hawke, leaning away from the mortal as her pulse pounds in her ear. "Hawke.... Hawke, I need..." _No, I can't... she... she needs sleep._ Nodding to herself, the lilin leans down and kisses Hawke's cheek as she casts a spell of deep slumber on the exhausted mortal. That done, she vanishes, only to reappear with a chest filled with healing potions and wands.

Ten minutes later, both Hawke and the room are clean and intact once again. On the surface anyway. _What... She just... It's okay. She's okay again. Think this through._ Varraline's form twists into her true one, deep crimson skin, obsidian eyes and hair, small raven wings and wickedly sharp nails. Her tail and features are much the same, though her build is more muscled, less... elven. _None of it... none of it felt as good. Why didn't... I tried nearly everything and it just... felt good. Not like... like before. Was it... what did I do wrong? Why did she... break like this? What did she dream about? That suggestion shouldn't have been so... 'dream of shame' should have just made her off-balance, vulnerable, it shouldn't have provoked... this._

"What did I do to you, my lovely little bird?"

Her bird doesn't answer. She can't; she's deeply asleep, needs to remain that way for some time for her body to put itself to rights. After a time, Varraline climbs into the bed with her, resting her head on Hawke's shoulder, curling around her protectively.

And it feels... comforting. Nice, even.

When Hawke does rouse, finally, Varraine is still curled up next to her. She lets out a small groan, blinking awake, her heartbeat picking up. _I didn't dream?_ The words are sluggish, slow to form, but they're words again, not vague desires.

Verraline's head snaps up at the soft sound, a look of utter relief on her face. "Hawke? My little bird? Are you... can you speak to me?" she whispers gently. "Can you say who I am?" Even as she speaks, she quickly reverts her form, hopefully fast enough to not give Hawke more than a vague blur of red and black as her sleep smeared eyes open. _Please be okay, please be my Hawke again._

"Lady," she groans, taking a deep breath. "My Lady. I-- did I fall asleep? We stopped. Why did we stop?"

"You... overextended yourself," Verraline explains gently, running her hands through Hawke's now shoulder length hair. "It was nice of you to try and keep up with me, but you are still mortal, my sweet little bird. It's okay to rest every now and then. I... enjoy holding you while you sleep." _It was... so very nice. Just to... have you with me. Sleeping peacefully. Warding off your nightmares with spell and touch. Protecting you._

She hesitates. _..Keep up with her? I-- I did that? No, I-- I had a dream, and then... and then..._ Already, the details are slipping away. The dream's contents don't seem important, but the feelings, the feeling of shame, the desire to escape, the urge to flee her life...Her stomach churns. Absently, she reaches up to Varraline's chest, running her thumb over the nipple there.

Verraline frowns. _Damnit, that dream is still... Hmmm._ "Little bird? I need you to close your eyes and relax, just for a few minutes. Let your mind drift. Or focus on something but not a thought. Can you do that for your Lady?" _A nice massage, this time with a light sedative instead of an aphrodisiac. Get her to relax for a while. Maybe get her talking for a bit. I... I miss talking to my little bird. Not having to put on a role or be wary for betrayal._ She frowns slightly. _This... this isn't a role? I.. I'm tempting her, how is this... not important. Focus on fixing my little bird and worry about that... later._

"Can't," she argues, with a whimper. "Please, I need-- I need to-- I need to not be myself, for a little while. Sex is the only way I know to shut my brain off."

"...trust me?" Verraline asks softly, rubbing Hawke's back. "Trust me to help?"

 _Trust. Honesty, Openness, Trust. Varraline is clan -- you can trust her._ "Alright," she whispers, closing her eyes. "Alright."

And for a time, she's able to relax into Varraline's touch as the lilin gives her a deep tissue massage. As her muscles relax, her eyes drift closed; she sleeps, for a time, and thanks to the lilin's magic it's just as dreamless as her previous slumber.

When she wakes, neither of them much want to discuss the dream. They begin again, this time more leisurely, more sedate. They explore each other, each of them hungry for each other's touch, each of them a little worried by what happened before, neither of them willing to talk about it. The mirror doesn't activate. Hawke doesn't think about what that means, doesn't let herself realize it should have. For a couple of days, they are just together.

Until the door opens and a defeated devil returns.

Tentoplenumitaeziro stares at them both silently. They're in bed, of course, but other than Verraline absently playing with one of Hawke's nipple bars, they're just... talking. Intimately, almost tenderly. His lip curls in disgust but it can't win for long against his sense of loss and defeat. "Five hours left," he announces. "And I haven't even been able to offer her so much as a cup of tea."

Verraline falls silent, shifting so Hawke's body is neatly displayed to Tentoplenumitaeziro. The cold iron piercing in her nipples, belly button, clita and lips. The bite marks and lines of reddened skin from pain and heat play (the lilin being nearly religious in her efforts to prevent more scarring on her little bird). The silver hair and the tight demon leather collar. All of it marking Hawke as belonging to her Lady Tantraconcusiscentiæ. _Mine_ , she thinks victoriously. _You lost to a slut, oh lofty being of logic and calculation. For all your experience and power, your methods would never make one such as my little bird fall. Not that she is anything but unique. No, not a slut. To a pair of sluts, a mentor and a student with incredible potential. Oh my beloved little bird, how proud you make me._

"Sounds like a problem." Hawke's quip falls short of her usual standards, but she tries. Lady likes it when she tries. Lady approves of sarcasm, even if Little Bird doesn't always feel up to it. She feels wrapped in cotton, distant. Lost. Lady will handle Tentos. She just wants Lady and sleep and glorious, delightful torture.

"Yes it is. And not just mine. It occurs to me, that why I am unable to harm you now, or come to Nyra later, that doesn't mean I can't set up a few... traps," Tentoplenumitaeziro says with relish. "Say, for instance, a nice, long detailed record of your stay here? Perhaps with a few carefully chosen images of... certain highlights? Or should I say, lows?"

Verraline narrows her eyes at first- and keeps that expression in place but by the end of the contract devil's threat, she's actually... rather pleased. _I can use this... If my little bird realizes she'll never be accepted back with them, she won't just accept my invitation to stay with her Lady, she'll beg for it._

Hawke stills. _That would... Papa will be so ashamed but... he wants another deal. He wants me to make another deal with him, to stay here one minute longer than I need to. No. No, I can't. I'm sorry, Papa, I'm so sorry, but I just... I just can't._ "I can't stop you," she says mildly, her voice dull.

~That's right, my love. I'll take care of you, don't trust this one an inch,~ her Lady croons into her mind, into her soul. ~I've got you.~

"You could. Not worth your soul, not worth even your life. But a service or two? A simple task perhaps?" Tentoplenumitaeziro wheedles.

"No," she says, her voice dull, distant. "No. I won my freedom. I'm leaving. No more deals." _Papa wouldn't want this. Would want me back, no matter what it cost us. No matter how broken my clan was. He'd say there's always hope so long as I'm alive._

~No matter what, I'll accept you, my little bird. My wondrous, endlessly captivating little bird. You belong to me and I will do whatever is needed to see you sated and...~ She hesitates. _It's just a word, just a word to make her think and feel the right way. To trust me, to obey and stay with me always._ ~Loved.~

"Are you sure? Perhaps my little... traps can be more than just words and horrors. Perhaps I should put out a contract or two, set a bounty? Why not a few bombs or long lasting poisons?" the contract devil says a bit desperately.

~He's lying. He's not allowed to do that,~ Verraline assures her little bird quickly. ~It'll be okay, just trust in me and I'll keep you safe.~

"They can handle it," she says quietly. "My clan is stronger than me. That's why I made the wager I did. I knew I was small and stupid and worthless, but my Clan is strong and smart and wonderful." _And better off without me,_ she realizes. _I hurt them badly, and there's more to come. They may never forgive me._

Tentoplenumitaeziro studies Hawke for a long moment. _Is it even worth it at this point? No, I'm going to have to scramble enough as it is to prevent a Lessening. The letters and illusion crystal will have to be enough. Though... perhaps a welcome home gift might be... yes... yesssss..._ "On your head be it then," he says almost absently, mind already shifting over to how he's going to secure his position after this debacle.

After he leaves, Verraline runs her tongue along the edge of Hawke's ear. "That was very good, my little bird. In fact.. I think you deserve a reward, hmmm?" She slides a finger down Hawke's body, then into her cleft. "Would you like _this_?" She flexes the finger, then withdraws it. "Or... _this_?" Her tail suddenly lashes across Hawke's body, neatly flicking over a nipple on it's way to crack where her hand had just been. "Which do you think you deserve?"

Hawke whimpers. "I can't, I have to -- I have to get my stuff back, get ready to go home." She takes a deep breath. "Come with me?"

 _Not a chance in Elysium I'm letting you go back there. You are **mine**_. Verraline tweaks the tiny metal ring between Hawke's legs and strokes her stomach slowly. "That's... that's it?" she whispers. After everything... after what you promised, after all we've done..." Her tail lashes down again, three times in rapid succession. "No, we still have time. Hours yet before you abandon me," she says, voice breaking. ~I need you, my little bird. I need you so much,~ she sends while pulling Hawke's head to the side for a punishing kiss.

 _Abandon? No. Never. You're Clan. Never._ Hawke moans into the kiss, twining her fingers through Varraline's hair. _Lady, Lady, Lady,_ her heart beats.

The next several hours, she forgets all about going home, about the end of the wager, about anything but her Lady's touch, the taste of her Lady's skin, about sweet submission and the half-desperate fucking that let her escape her thoughts, her fears, her doubts. But she can't forget forever. Drifting, half-asleep, satiated, it's another pair of hands in her dream, a set of warm, strong arms calling her home, holding her, keeping her safe. She jerks awake, pulling free of the Lilin. "What time is it?"

"Time for round five," Verraline says throatily. "Or is it six?" Setting her hands on the half-upright Hawke, Verraline rolls her hips to drive the toy she's wearing deeper into Hawke. _No, just a little longer, little bird. Another ten minutes and I can just... whisk us away home where I can devote years to your training and growth. My perfect little bird, my very own... partner. Equal. The only one worthy of being at my side forever._ "Does my little bird want to ride this time? I suppose I can allow you the liberty," she adds in a purr.

She shakes her head, fighting her way through the pleasure, the fog. "Home," she whimpers. "I mean." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "We need to talk about what happens next."

 _I can't say no directly, she's still clinging to them. She... she doesn't want to leave me. She just... It's okay, this can still work._ "Hmmm. Alright, little bird," she whispers as she continues to roll her hips. Verraline slides her hands upwards to pull Hawke down for a kiss, her tail encircling the mortal's waist as an anchor. "Let's see how your... focus is coming along."

She swallows a whimper, closing her eyes a moment as she clings to the sheet beneath them. "Come home with me. I can-- I can introduce you to-- please, stay with me. Come to the material plane. Meet everyone."

"Eyes open, little bird. Look at me if we're going to talk," she says, voice a little sharp.

Her eyes snap open automatically. "Sorry, Lady," she whimpers.

The lilin kisses Hawke lightly, once on the lips, once on the tip of her nose, than again on the lips but deeper. Wetter. ~Forgiven, my little bird,~ she whispers. ~How can I stay mad at my most precious one?~

 _My precious, precious Lady. My savior. My beloved._ Hawke nearly melts, warm feelings flooding her as she returns the kiss. _I can't wait for you to meet them. My Maorai will adore you._

Verraline growls softly, driving her hips upwards sharply, wanting to add some pain to the mix _so Hawke knows how I... to punish her for straying. It's just conditioning. That's all this is. I need to mold her into my perfect partner and sometimes that'll involve a bit of pain, a little... struggle. She'll thank me for it one day. Forever and always_. ~Mine. My little bird. Never let you go. Love me forever. Mine~

Hawke cries out in pain as the toy slams into her cervix, panting to catch her breath. _Lady is unhappy? Why? Is-- does she not want-- Lady, please, forgive me._ "I love you, I love you," she whimpers. "that's why-- that's why I want you to come with me." _I don't want to lose Lady, I can't, don't make me leave you behind, please come with me. Please please please._

~You know it won't work,~ Verraline replies savagely, twisting them around so Hawke is underneath her instead, so she can push into Hawke without mercy. The toy, a magically preserved incubus cock, begins to warm and vibrate as the lilin increases her tempo and force. ~They'll never accept me. They won't accept _us_. No matter what I do or say, they won't ever allow you to love me.~

 _They will. They have to. I won't, can't, lose you, Lady. I--_ She whimpers as the pain increases, desperate to find the pure, sweet pleasure she had a moment ago, under and around the pain.

 _Too much, damnit, she's not deep enough for-_ Verraline forces herself to slow, to smooth out her thrusts. ~You are mine, little bird. Mine. I cannot lose you. I can't. I won't. I'll burn the word before I let you go," Halfway through the sending, the words began to slip from her mouth as well, an odd echoing that's strangely intimate. "Love me," she demands, blinking rapidly. _What is wrong with me? Why can't I- What is- my eyes are-_

"I do love you. I do." Hawke's voice is a small whimper. "Why can't you trust me? They'll love you." _It's me that they won't forgive. Can't forgive. No, I have to.. I have to trust. I have to trust that they will._

Verraline shudders, hugging Hawke tightly against her skin. _She... it's not enough. She loves me completely, with every part of her, I know it. I know she does. I've felt the love of others, fools that thought they could lay with a lilin and walk away intact just because they safeguarded their souls and clueless marks unknowing of my nature both. It's not like this. She knows me, knows every part of me and... it's not just love. She doubts, she even loathes- herself and me- but she trusts me. Likes me. Wants me. Loves me. But it's not enough. I can't make it more... so I have to make what she feels for them lesser instead. She needs to realize they're not worthy of my little bird. That only I can take care of her as she deserves._ "...it won't work," she whispers brokenly. "But... but for you, I'll try. Because it's you asking... I'll give them a chance. Just one."

"Why-- why won't it work?" she whimpers. "You saved me. They'll have to love you. Won't-- won't they?"

"You're special, little bird. You love so deeply..." Verraline nibbles on Hawke's ear, sucking on the tip. ~And... they'll never understand our... desires. The dark yearnings. The allure of the lash, the throbbing delight as I fill your holes more and more. Your paladin won't accept how you begged me to hurt you, how you writhed and moaned when I made you crawl on the floor in your own filth like the shameful, dirty slut you are. Your ex-slave won't be able to look at you when you tell him how much you like being chained up and blindfolded, while I made you clean my feet with your tongue. What would your pretty wife say if she knew how earnestly you'd begged for me to choke you while I pumped my tail into your ass?~ She speeds up, slowly, carefully, making sure to arc the phallus just right with each stroke. ~What would your papa say if he knew that you agreed to bear my child?~ Verraline kisses Hawke sweetly. "I'm sorry my love. I wish they could be different. Maybe they are, but... I just don't want you to be hurt when they reject you. If, I mean." _And they will, even if I have to do it for them. You're mine, little bird. Only mine. Forever and always._

 _Agreed to-- am I pregnant?_ She doesn't know; she dimly remembers agreeing, but it feels like a lifetime ago, a different person. _If-- if I bore a tiefling... who would understand that? Maybe Andy, but even he hates his mum. I-- I am sullied, filthy. I am nothing. I am not worth my Clan._ She takes a deep breath, letting out a low moan. _But where else can I go? I have to go home._

 _Such an old trick, but a good one. Make them think they agreed to something and they'll agree when you ask to confirm. We did talk about it, I want that with you, my little loving bird, but you didn't promise, not clearly enough anyway. 'With my smile?' isn't a yes, though it's... it sounds nice. It would be nice if our daughter had your eyes and your heart_. "shhhh," Verraline croons. "I've got you, little bird. You know I'll accept you, no matter what. You belong to me, my sweet, sweet little bird and I won't ever let you be alone. Your Lady will always be there for you."

 _I've nowhere else to go,_ she realizes, feeling that sense of loss. _They won't take me back, or if they do it will be... gods, this is worse than Memento Mori. They'll never accept this, never. But.. but what can I do? I can't stay here. This is the Nine Hells. Mortals don't do well here._

"Will you trust me, little bird?" Verraline whispers in Hawke's ear after switches sides to nibble on. "I can keep you safe. You can come home with me... I'll keep you safe and show you so much more... there's so much more we couldn't do here, in this cramped and barren room." The tip of her tail threads its way underneath Hawke to rub between her cheeks, not entering, but just rubbing and teasing.

 _Home? With you?_ It's a tempting offer: more space, being looked after by someone who loves her, and the potential for more, more, as her body seems to be craving. _I-- yes. At least for a little while. If it doesn't work I can go back to the material plane with you later, right? Maybe the Enclave? We can stay together, no matter where._

Verraline feels something inside of her flutter and her body shudders. Eyes heavy, almost drugged, she pours her feelings, her unnamed, unlooked at, feelings into a long, deep kiss. "Say it, little bird. Say the words and do it properly," she growls into Hawke's mouth, then leans back, almost upright. As she does so, Hawke can see that the illusion is gone. Verraline, her Lady, is demanding that her Little Bird gives the words to her in her true form- cherry red skin, pitch black eyes and hair, tiny horns, rust colored runic tattoos of unholy scripture and wings all on blatant display. Despite her truly vulgar and infernal appearance, Hawke can see hints of doubt, of fear, in the lilin's pupiless eyes as she waits, unbreathing, for Hawke's answer.

"I love you," she whispers, but there's fear there, as her gut churns in deep, instinctive terror of the form before her. Knowing Varraline was a lilin, it turns out, is a little different than seeing her. _She looks... she looks like the demon that killed Bethany, like Tenach'ka. Like an infernal being. Like something to be hated and feared._

Varraline sags, her hips stilling. "...not even you," she whispers, trying to stop or at least figure out why she's in pain. _Why am I... of course she doesn't love me. Not really. I'm a devil. Devils do not know love, neither to give nor possess. We can steal it unfounded, but it's never truly ours. Foolish bitch, you should know better. What is wrong with me?_

Hawke reaches up, strokes Varraline's cheek. "My love," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. I... I just need time. I just need..." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I'll send a note, with Silence. I'll tell them I'm safe, so they don't worry, and then we can go back to your home, we can be together. I'll get used to your appearance, just like I did Andy's."

Verraline stares down at Hawke with her inhuman face. "Prove it," she demands in a husky voice perfectly designed to inflame and entice. "Make love to me, just like this, with your eyes open." _Need me like I need you. I can't lose you, not ever. Mine, forever and always._ The tail under Hawke jerks slightly as the lilin realizes she'd sent that thought to Hawke without meaning to. "Beg for it," she adds quickly, needing to... twist her honesty, channel her need, so it's less... vulnerable.

"Yes, Lady," she whispers. The hand on Varraline's cheek moves to tangle in her hair, then pulls her face down for a passionate kiss. Hawke bucks her hips upward, keeping her eyes open all the while.

It's over far too fast, Verraline unable to hold back in order to delay. Verraline is laying against Hawke, the soft curve of the finger-sized horn pressing against the merikos elf's breast, when the mirror's surface ripples and turns pitch black as the magic tying it to the wager fades away. Strangely, it's only Hawke that notices, the devil too lost in her own head as she cuddles- cuddles! She, a devil, cuddling to a mortal like a scared child.

Hawke cradles Varraline close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. _I have to let them know I'm safe. Then we can just be together, we can forget everything else. Gods above, what do I even say?_ By habit she glances over toward Silence's dog bed, glad the canine has some comfort in her life as well. _It will take some doing to get her to take the note, I think. But it's for the best. I should never have brought her here. She--_

Hawke frowns. _She's been asleep a while. I.. I can't remember the last time she was awake. She... is she alright?_ Fear spikes through her-- did her canine fall to harm and she not even notice? _I am the worst, the absolute worst._ She starts to disentangle herself from the lilin, to go to her Mabari.

Verraline doesn't seem to notice at first, still preoccupied by the intense emotions she shouldn't be able to feel. And when she does, she thinks at first Hawke is simply changing positions before they resume. It's not until Hawke has pulled the lilin's tail free does she realize- "l-little bird? What's wrong, why are leaving me?"

"I'm not," she says quietly. "I'm just making arrangements so I can stay." Her voice is soft, soothing, as she slips from the bed, moving to kneel beside Silence. She shakes her gently; when the canine doesn't respond, she checks for a pulse, her shoulders slumping with relief. _She's just asleep... but she's such a watchful sleeper usually, and it's been hours at least she's been out..._

Verraline relaxes at Hawke's reply, slumping back in the bed as she watches her little bird move around. _So lovely. The lines of red against the soft golden tan of her skin. Those tattoos on her will have to go, of course, but I'm sure she'll love the ones I put on her._ Voice distracted, she says lazily. "She'll be out for hours yet, come back to bed. And bring the candles, little bird, I want to watch you squirm and shake."

Hawke stills, hands coming to rest on Silence's fur. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice tight. _There's no way. She wouldn't hurt Silence. She's not bad like that._

Verraline smiles, the expression sensual and slightly... predatory. "You can't take the heat that well now, but you'll learn how to accept more and more of it, my little bird. I promise. And for now, your Lady will give you a little taste."

"No," she says sharply. "Not that. What did you do to my Mabari?" Her voice is calm, level, but there's a sharp edge to it -- panic? Anger? She's not sure yet.

The lilin blinks, then her eyes widen. _Shite, what did I say- damnit, pay attention._ "Just some sleep magic," she says quickly. "She- she was agitated and- it's nothing I haven't done to you, I didn't hurt her."

"You put my dog to sleep," she says, quietly, turning over the past few days. "For days? Maybe weeks? You've been drugging my dog, so she won't bite you." Hawke stands, turns to face Varraline, her face stony. "Can I even trust you?" Her voice is soft now, an edge of brokenness in it.

Verraline stares at Hawke, eyes wild and lost. "I- wha- I don't- I d-don't understand. You love me, why are you- I just- she _bit_ me! For nothing! I didn't- I just walked in and she attacked me! It just- I didn't hurt her, I just... She's happy, dreaming of... dog things. I didn't hurt her, she's yours and you're mine, I wouldn't..."

"Mabari are protective," she says softly. "She thought you were trying to hurt me. We could have taught her otherwise, could have trained her to accept you. But you didn't even talk to me. You just... removed her from the equation." A deep breath. "Are you trying to remove the rest of my Clan from the equation?"

It's only for a second, maybe two, but Verraline hesitates. "No, I just... I'm just... preparing you. For them to leave you," she rallies. "I lll-" the word refuses to come out of her suddenly wooden mouth "you're my little bird. I just want... I need you. I need us. Together, forever and always." The lilin sits up all the way, her wings pulling in tight around her body. ~Please...~

Hawke closes her eyes against the upwelling of grief and pain inside her -- and it's Anders' face that she sees, that wild desperation in his eyes as he begs her to marry him. "Come with me," she says quietly. "Or if you can't right now, come visit me. My doors are always open to you. I love you, forever and always. But I can't love only you. I can't forsake my clan. Even if they reject me, I can't forsake them."

"Why?" Verraline begs, voice broken and hurt. "W-why can't I be en-nough?" _What is... why do I hurt like this? Just words, it's just.. just my little bird flying away. I can't- I can't lose her, I can'tcan'tcan'tcan't-_ "Please, please don't, I can't- please, little bird, please." _I can't think, everything is wrong, what's wrong with me, why does it hurt, why can't I- I don't know what to do, nothing makes sense, it's all wrong, I can't think, this doesn't make sense I don't want her to hurt but I can't let her go and it hurts inside and I just- everything is **wrong**._

Hawke's heart splits in half. She wants nothing more than to go to Varraline, to bundle her up in her arms and hold her and never, ever let go. This is her Lady, her love, her beloved, wonderful Lady. She has to help her. She has to ease this pain.

Instead, she reaches down and strokes Silence's fur, gently untangling the bonds that hold her in sleep. She grabs her collar as the canine gets to her feet, still groggy; she whispers to her to hush, and gently leads her out the door.

_I will never atone for leaving her. This is wrong, evil. But.. I can't. I just can't. I'm so sorry, my love. You'll have to deal with this alone._

Five minutes later, wandering the halls as carefully as the nude mortal can, Hawke is interrupted in her attempts to find her way back to the library... or maybe office... she arrived in hell all those months ago, by Tentoplenumitaeziro. He sneers at her, muttering something about 'sluts slipping their leashes' then grabs Hawke's arm. The room blurs, and they're there, the portal glowing faintly in front of magus and mabari. Silence sniffs the air, then sneezes, her tail perking up as she scents other mortals. Old, faded scents, but still. "Get out," the devil snaps before vanishing, his final task done.

Does... is she expected to just walk through? Is that it? Naked, unarmed and covered in... sweat, blood, scars and other things? Before she can panic too much, there's a thud just behind her. Spinning in place, she can just make out a flash of silver and rose pink in the doorway before it's gone. At her feet, there's a bundle of items wrapped in a cotton blanket- and the head of her staff sticking out of the top.

Hawke takes a deep breath, patting Silence on the head. "Let's go home," she whispers.


	25. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke goes home.

Helene leads the way through Preacher's Way, with Aveline, Zevran, and Varric hot on her trail. The bones had said to go to the Temple at noon, so they had gathered those who could fight -- just in case -- and their sketchbook and bones, ready for the next challenge. Would they find someone helpful to their quest to get to the Hells? Would they find the devil again, ready to fight him for Hawke's sake? They had packed the whole kit: blessed water, silver, and various reagents for rituals of binding and banishing. They would be prepared, this time. They wouldn't let Hawke down.

They didn't expect a dog.

Silence trots toward the party, limping just a little. She gives a soft whine when she sees them, which is rare -- Beka whines, but Silence was so named because of how little noise she makes on the day to day. The mangled bits of wood and metal in her mouth are also new. Did she chew a crossbow to bits? More importantly, Silence has been missing for months- and, to the Clan's shame, they're not even entirely certain when she was taken. Merrill has assumed Varric was watching her, Varric assuming the elf had the mabari. The only clue they had, such as it was, is that her collar was sitting neatly in her bedding, removed, not torn. Zevran is the fastest off the mark, though the other two aren't far behind. Silence, clearly not doing well, given her shrunken build, her loose fur and-

"Gods above, girl, what happened to-" Aveline chokes off as she cups Silence's cheek and sees the faint scarring that suggests that her eye was gouged out with a claw.

"Silence, what happened girl? Where's Hawke?" Varric asks urgently. If she leads him to his daughter, he'll pay to have her eye replaced a thousand times over, but right now, he has a higher priority.

Silence gives another whine, dropping the mangled crossbow. She backs up a few paces, wagging her tail just a little -- a clear signal to follow.

And follow they do. Silence leads them through Preacher's Way; they were going to go the wrong direction up ahead, turning right to get to the Temple of Astea, but she instead leads them left, toward the older section of the Way. Towards...

They recognize the destination at once. The Old Temple of Mileen. Varric and Aveline break into a run, outpacing the canine as they rush toward the Temple. If there's any chance she's inside, if there's any chance she's home...

\---

_I have nowhere to go._ Hawke curls into a ball on the floor, weeping into the dust, hugging her knees to her chest. Soon, she knows, she'll have to get up. She'll have to find food for Silence, and somewhere to sleep. She'll have to face reality. But for now, she just presses her forehead to her knees, crying silently.

She's left the bundle that is her things on the floor behind her; she doesn't mind being naked, not when no-one is around to see. Who would come here? She doesn't recognize the changes in her body, but those bursting through the door do. They can see how sallow her skin is, how she's lost weight. How her back is torn up by what seems to have been a whip; how she's covered in cuts and burns and dried wax, how her hair is now silver. And how she's _weeping_.

If they can tear their eyes away from her form, they can see why: on the wall, in blood, is written the words, "you know what to do." Coupled with the crossbow Silence mangled...

Varric notices- he can't not, a gift and curse. Aveline and Zevran are a little luckier, they're able to hyperfocus on Hawke. Aveline drops to her knees near the woman, healing energy already pouring out of her in a torrent of divine benediction backed by love and service. Zevran doesn't have to spend focus on that, so he's the one that speaks first. "Hawke? Hawke, can you hear me?" he prayers.

Her Papa is silent, then there's a bloom of heat as fire scours the blood on the walls, turning it to ash and soot. Silence doesn't seem to notice, just moves to her place by Hawke's side, lightly pressing her flank so her Winter Alpha knows she's not alone.

Helene hangs back in the doorway, the last to arrive thanks to their short legs. They smile, tears welling up in their eyes. Hawke is home. All's right with the world again.

Hawke moves slowly, almost dreamlike. Something settles in her gut, something clicking into place that was missing, has been missing for so many months. _Aveline. That's Aveline._ Her eyes fall next on Zevran, and fill with fresh tears. _Zevran, my Zevran, my wicked warrior._ She pushes to a seated position, giving them a glance of the worst changes to her body: the thick, ugly scar that stretches from her collarbone to her pelvis; the new piercings, two very prominent, the rest more subtle. She worries about their seeing her scar, but only for half a second, because that small heartbeat later her eyes fall on Varric, and she bursts into fat, ugly sobs. "Papa," she whimpers.

Aveline and Zevran, both about to pull their lover into an embrace, stall at her word. Varric gives the wall one last ugly look, then turns to look at his daughter. "Oh Hawke," he whispers as he sees her. "What did they do to you?"

_He knows. He's ashamed of me._ Hawke pulls back, stumbling to her feet (and making the rest of her piercings that much more visible). "I-- I'm sorry, I can, I'll go, I--"

"Run and I'll stop you," Varric says, voice like granite. "We just got you back," _if this is (daughter mine) her, she's acting more like her and Helene's bones said this was the day (pleasepleaseplease) but-_ "and we're not about to let you go again."

"It's okay Hawke," Aveline says softly. "You're back now. You're safe now. We've got you."

Hawke stops, looking at her feet. That tone-- she holds still, hands clasped behind her, quiet, submissive. _Yes, Lady._ A deep breath. Another. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I-- I know he-- it was going to send you, I--" A third deep breath. She looks up, finally, eyes full of pain as she looks at her Papa. "Please, can I come home?"

"My silly merikos daughter is always welcome," Varric says softly, hating that he can't just say yes without hedging. His eyes flick to Aveline who shakes her head ever so slightly. "Let's... let's get you cleaned up a bit, get some clothes on you and then we'll head to the temple to... get you looked after, alright? Then you can get some sleep in your own bed again. That sound nice?"

"The temple," she says, in a rush of relief. _I can stay there for a time. At least until they find out what I've done._ "Yes, please, the temple of Astea. I need-- Yes." She kneels, picking up her tunic from the bundle, slipping it over her head. _To hell with the leggings, the armor._ She takes her staff, then rises, slowly, her body aching as she leans on it.

And pauses. "..Anders," she whispers. "Someone has to go to Anders. He's-- he needs--" Another deep breath, a shudder barely repressed. "H-helene, there's--" She spies the samasaran then, and bows her head. "I brought a book, I-- I know it can't make up for-- but--"

"We know Hawke," Zevran says gently. "Wynne has been speaking with Anders, helping him past... we can talk about it later. We can talk about all of it later. Let's get you taken care of first."

As he speaks, Aveline stops Hawke from clothing herself long enough to coax her into using magic to remove the bulk of the... mess on her skin. "There you go," the paladin whispers once she's dressed. "Do you want to lean on me?"

Hawke shakes her head, holding the book out to Helene. The samsaran takes the book in both hands, giving a bow. "This one is glad to see that you are safe," they whisper, unsure how to proceed. Something is wrong, clearly, given Varric's reaction, but... but...

Hawke bows her head, pulling back from Helene now that the book is handed over. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, ashamed. "Your finger, I-- I'm sorry." She takes a deep breath. "Silence is-- Silence lost her eye," she adds, her voice still quiet but a little louder. "She'll need care, and, and real food. That bangle on her paw is enchanted but it's not-- for months, it's, it's not the same."

Zevran glances down, noting the lack of a bangle but doesn't comment, just continues to stoke the shivering mabari gently.

"Hawke, Hawke, I need you to look at me," Aveline says firmly. "Look at me. Take a deep breath. What's wrong?" _What did they do to you? Why are talking like you won't be here for long? What's **wrong**?_

Hawke looks at Aveline then, as instructed, taking a deep breath without thinking; she doesn't meet her eyes, but she does turn her head. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I hurt you, hurt everyone. I brought shame to the Clan. I failed." Another deep breath. "I'll just-- the temple, get looked at, then I can stay there for a bit while I figure out..." _what to do. Where to go._

"Hawke," Varric says gently, his fingers brushing against her arm ever so gently. "Hawke, we want you to stay. We just... we just need to make sure it's you in there." _Just you_. "After that, you can come home. We _want_ you to come home."

"You-- you do?" she whispers, looking at Varric, searching his face for signs he might be lying. _Honesty. Trust. Varric would never lie to you. But-- but if I'm no longer Clan--_

"I will _never_ abandon my daughter." Varric doesn't have many tells, even to Hawke. He's a brilliant liar, perhaps because he can convince himself that he's not lying, just speaking only part of a truth for brief periods. But still, there's just... a something to his eyes, his voice, when he says something that's not just true but... fundamental.

Like this.

"Papa," she sobs, the cry wrenched straight from the heart. She doesn't go to him, but only barely. She clings to her staff, holding herself upright, taking a moment to steady herself, to breathe deeply. _Be a hero, Hawke. Just for a little longer._ "The temple," she whispers, and now she moves, inching her way forward, leaning on her staff. She glances sideways at the wall with the blood-- no, the scorch marks, she's surprised to find. _Did I imagine? No, someone must have-- I recall heat. Someone blotted it out._

The next few minutes are a blur. She lets Zevran drape a cloak over her to hide her face; she pulls back from his touch, not wanting to seek comfort, not yet. It's not a long walk to the temple of Astea. Thanks to her talks with Victoria, she's well known when she does show her face, and she's quickly escorted to the Sun Room, where she can pray in the nude as she waits for someone who can certify that she's herself, clean, safe.

She doesn't have any tears left as she stretches out under the dazzling array of colors from the stained glass. She feels only emptiness, a numb ache taking the place of her heart. _Probably he hasn't found the bomb yet. Probably they just don't know._

A small sound draws her attention after an endless age of waiting- the door being opened gently. Looking around, she spots Aveline and Zevran just behind her. Zevran is on his knees, head bowed in prayer, while Aveline is standing vigil. Silence is still right by her person's side, fur just brushing Hawke's skin when she inhales.

"Sorry for the wait," Victoria says breathlessly. "I was across town and- oh goddess, Hawke." The aasimar lifts a hand to cover her mouth, pain and shock in her gaze.

Hawke turns her head to look at her, listless, eyes looking through her rather than focusing. _Lady, my Lady? No. Someone else. Someone-- Victoria. Bright Victoria._ She takes a deep breath, shuddering a little, and her eyes focus, her expression smoothing into something more like herself. "Victoria," she whispers. Another deep breath. "Please. I was, I was in the hells, am I-- how bad is -- can I atone?" She can't make herself finish the sentences, but she needs to know, desperately needs for her goddess not to have rejected her.

Victoria inhales sharply- she'd been badgering Varric- and Aveline for that matter- more and more these last three months after it was noticed that not only was Hawke not being seen around town but that her Clan was... both readying for a seige and a crusade all while searching. But for this... to hear this... "I... okay. I can... I can perform the same ritual as... as before," she manages after a moment. "Do... do you want to want for everyone else or...?"

Aveline doesn't say anything, but she's moved to... protect Hawke. Once Victoria speaks, she relaxes, but doesn't move from her guard position. Gives a polite nod though. Zevran rises to his feet in a single smooth movement and stares blankly at Victoria with assassin's eyes.

"It doesn't matter," she says, her voice thick, dull. It's like there's a thick mass in her throat, a burning in her eyes. "I... I know I am tainted. I just need to know how... I just need to hear it said. They deserve to know too."

"Hawke, there is nothing-" Zevran begins, cutting off at Aveline's gentle touch.

"She needs to her it from... above, Zevran," she says softly. "From someone that can't be fooled and won't.. soften the blow."

Victoria takes a deep breath. "You need to have more faith in yourself, Brightness Hawke." Even as she says this, she's heading for the center of the room to get started. "Go ahead and... remain as you are, if you wish," she adds, eyes stinging as she gets a closer look of the poor magus. "I'll try to hurry."

Hawke is quiet, resting on the floor, hands clasped. Waiting. _They'll find out soon enough. I-- I am tainted, and so is the babe I carry._

"May I- may I touch-" Zevran takes a deep breath. "May I hold your hand, my love?" he finally manages.

_Zevran, my wicked Zevran, I can't, I can't stand to have you turn on me, knowing the things we -- the things I said to her, I can't--_ She takes a slow, shuddering breath. "Best not," she whispers. "Just-- just in case." _I don't want to touch you with tainted hands._

Zevran's eyes harden slightly. "I am willing to risk it," he says stubbornly. A dozen feet away, Brightness Victoria begins to chant, her tone urgent and soaring as she invokes Astea to come to the aid of Her Beloved children.

Still, Hawke doesn't reach for his hand. Neither does she say no; she closes her eyes, as if the name of Astea is painful to hear. _Please, Bright Astea please, let this go well. I know it's too much to ask for some miracle to make me pure, but please. Let them not be too hurt by this. Let my Clan live on without me, rather than breaking apart. Please._

Zevran's face twists with pain and loneliness but before he can try again, a strong hand grabs his wrist. Aveline firmly places his palm on her own hip, then lets go so her hands are free to defend them should it be needed. In the heart of the largest temple to the most holy of the good deities. She might be feeling the tension herself, just a touch.

Bright Victoria is almost expecting the result this time- the circle flares with a brilliant rainbow of light and then nothing. She turns to look at the statue but it's still in the same position Andraste left it almost half a year ago. Hawke's first clue there's something of note behind her is Aveline's breath catching rather loudly.

Zevran's breathy "oh my" is rather noticeable as well.

_Bright Mother, please._ She takes a deep breath, then rolls over onto her stomach, looking up, and sees a breathtakingly beautiful masculine face a foot and a half away. Soft rose-gold skin, dazzling sapphire eyes- no ruby, no emerald, they keep shifting seamlessly to some other somehow more appealing color endlessly. Flawless complexion, deep golden hair curling down his back- his bare, tightly sculpted back, presuming it matches his very nice chest- and plump reddish brown lips... none of it compares to the gentle look in his eyes, the loving curve of his smile.

"Hello," he says softly in a voice made equally for late night talks with a lover and joyous songs shared in a tavern with friends and family. "Sorry, Big Sis Andra's a little grounded right now so she asked me to pop in," he adds in a confiding tone.

Hawke's eyes burn with shame and joy: joy, at the marvel of him, and shame, that she has to meet him in such circumstances. "Please," she whispers, lowering her gaze to the floor. "Tell them what you know, must know, about me. Tell them I am impure."

The pavitra blinks, thick lashes fluttering for a second. "Well... you're mortal. Of course you're impure. You all are," he says gently. "But We love you anyway."

She shakes her head. "But... more so than I was." Her voice is a bare whisper.

"A little," he allows. "But... nothing that cannot be forgiven or made right. I am more worried about the scars your efforts have put on your soul." The pavitra slowly reaches out to Hawke, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Her- her soul?" Aveline demands, taking half a step forward.

"Pax," the pavitra says, holding up a hand. "Pax, guardian of love. Naught has been done that cannot be... overcome." A pause, then a somber, " _once_."

Hawke swallows. _Once. I-- I get a second chance? I get a chance to make amends?_ "Please," she whispers, looking up into his eyes. "How do I make this right? How do I-- how do I free my soul from this burden?"

"There is nothing to be freed from, merely healed," the pavitra corrects her. "What you did... was a miracle only seen four times in the living memory of pavitra. The Gods themselves might know of more but if so, they have not shared even with us." He shrugs. "Still, that is a very, very long time for a mere four instances. And, I might add, two of them were Astea in mortal guise. So."

"Ah, Bright, err, Brightness?" Zevran begins.

"Daerthafuscailtgra," the pavtria supplies. "Or Dae. Easier to say for most."

"Right, thank you, ah, Bright Dae." Zevran pauses as he realizes the pavitra has named himself 'bright day.' And knows it, based on the grins he flashes. "What... this is our Hawke? Free and... unshadowed?" he asks, voice trembling.

"Yes. This is Marian zi'Hawke of Clan Tethras, your beloved," the pavitra confirms. "She is not controlled by any sceleratis and has full possession of her soul, albeit with some wear and tear." _After all, once something is gifted away, it's no longer yours, but theirs. And the sliver you gave was replaced with a gift of equal measure._

Hawke closes her eyes, putting her head down as tears leak onto her arms. "Even from--" she chokes back. "Even the second devil? I am truly my own?" _How could I be? I promised her I was hers. I told her over and over -- I am yours, Lady._

Dae turns his gaze back to Hawke and wipes away a few tears with his finger tip. He shifts a little, wings rustling on the ground. They're strange- no feathers, but it hard to tell if it's soft skin like a bat or leather or what because they're glowing faintly, a faintly prismatic white. "Your soul is your own. And there is no magic or alchemy guiding your actions," the pavitra says slowly. ~But the... bond Tantraconcusiscentiæ created with you goes both ways. You gave her a part of yourself, yes. But she gave something of herself back. She is still sceleratis. But she knows Love now. True love, even if she does not understand it, nor now how to handle the frothing sea of emotion and thought you have invoked in her.~

"So she's just- gods, I'm sorry Hawke, there's no just to it, I shouldn't-" Aveline shakes her head. "She needs to heal but she doesn't have to... fight anymore. Or to be... freed."

"Correct," Dae replies with a nod.

Hawke keeps her head on her arms, sobbing helplessly onto them -- big sobs, ones that rack her shoulders and back with spasms. _Lady, my Lady. I did love you. I do love you. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you behind. I should have made you come with me, should have tried harder. Oh, Lady. Tantraconcusiscentiæ. Tantra, my Lady._

Hawke finds herself effortless lifting into a hug, warm, soft wings wrapping around her body. Dae's skin is soft and almost... tingles to touch. "Shhhh," he croons, rubbing her back slowly "Shhhhh." He glances up at her two lovers and then nods down at Hawke. Both were clearly just wanting for some kind of hint as they rush to embrace her as well, comforting words and noises flowing from their mouths like water in a storm.

Hawke sobs, covering Dae's shoulder in tears and snot as she decompresses. Minutes stretch by in which she can do nothing but sob helplessly; she's home, really home. _There's always hope, so long as I have a Clan. So long as I have my Papa. Oh, Papa, I'm so sorry..._ Slowly, she pulls herself together enough to pull back from Dae, though by now nothing will convince her to pull away from Aveline or Zevran. "Sorry," she whispers, rubbing at her eyes.

Despite what she's been doing, Dae's shoulder and chest are spotless. And, with just a few caresses of his thumb, so is her face. "I am glad I was able to help," Dae tells her gently. "For what was done to you... what was asked of you... you deserve that and so much more."

"What do you mean?" Zevran asks, eyes narrowing.

The pavitra hesitates a moment, then sighs. "The actions of Tentoplenumitaeziro, of Bartrand and all the other mortals was their own. However... the advice you were given was... crafted to increase the odds of this outcome in particular," he says, voice pained. "If Hawke had not taken the first step, then another another, Astea would have assisted regardless, but She was... hopeful this would come to pass."

Aveline's face darkens and her posture shifts into a combat stance. " **What**?"

"Hawke?" Dae prods, having a fair idea of what Hawke might be feeling and wanting to give her the chance to speak first.

"Don't!" she cries, over top of Dae. "Aveline, don't. It's okay. I-- I promise, it's okay. I understand. I am..." Her breath hitches. "I am glad to be of service," she whispers, bowing her head.

"No," Dae says just as firmly. "You are not our _servant_ ," he says firmly, then pauses a moment before very deliberately saying, "Astea approves and agrees with each and every one of the names you offered. _All_ of them."

_All the names? Including the ones he vetoed, Maeve and--- oh. oh. She's-- She's accepting--_ She gives a small, broken laugh. "B-but I d-didn't t-tell her the gu-gut s-story," she stammers. _Astea is in my Clan. We're Clan. There's no debts between us -- myself and Astea -- only gratitude. There's no service, only love._

"She is a goddess. She knows. Mind you, I think She'd like to hear you tell it someday in the far future," Dae replies with a grin. "Andra feels the same. Astea had to send her off to- err, well, pretty far away to keep her from attacking the Hells by herself. Or possibly at the head of an army. You have more than a few fans up there, pavitra and otherwise."

"What did she do?" Zevran demands. "What are you talking about?"

Dae shakes his head. "I won't tell her story. She needs to do that for herself, when she can." He gives Hawke a firm look. "But you do have to talk about it. Bottling it up will just fester and poison you. But I need to give you a warning, Beloved. What you did was a miracle. A wonder and something holy. But you can't do it again. Everything has a cost, consequences. If you try to save another like this, it will destroy you utterly."

_It might be worth it, _is her instant thought.__

__It stutters to a halt when Dae taps her nose lightly. "No. Bad Hawke," he says sternly, though his lips quirk up "Not worth it."_ _

__"Hawke!" both of her lovers snap at once, horrified at what Dae's words imply._ _

__"It won't work. You'll break- your soul will shatter and turn to nothing- before you can make a difference," Dae clarifies. "This works once. Well, it shouldn't work at all, but your soul can't take the stress of it again. I want you to swear you won't try. On three things- on your life, in Astea's name and on the love and loyalty your Clan has for you. Swear," he commands._ _

__"I can't," she whimpers, miserably. "I can't stop my stupid heart."_ _

__"You can," Dae says. "I told you... Everything has consequences. Your heart won't forget this pain."_ _

___My heart,_ she realizes, dully. _My heart is damaged. My capacity for love. That's what the cost was._ She recalls after Rosemary, when she realized she loved Zevran more than the catfolk -- when she thought her heart must have been damaged by dying. The horror. The pain. _I understand._ "Then-- then I swear. On my life, in Astea's name, on the love of my Clan, I swear I will not knowingly attempt this a second time."_ _

__Aveline sighs a little, pressing a kiss to Hawke's temple. "That's... the best we'll ever get," she announces wryly._ _

__"Better than I would have thought to get in the first place," Zevran adds voce sotto._ _

__Nodding solemnly, Dae leans in to kiss Hawke lightly on the lips. "Then, in Astea's name, I accept your oath. It will be well, Marian Tethras Hawke. One day, it will be well. It will be hard, very hard. It will take time and painful effort. But it can be well again. You can heal. You can be yourself again. Different, perhaps. More... weathered. Experienced. But you."_ _

___One day_. She takes that kernel and tucks it away inside herself, closing her eyes against the grief and pain as she does. "I think-- I think I would like a nap soon," she admits, quietly._ _

__Dae nods slowly, then cocks his head to the side. "The rest of your Clan seems to be arriving. Well, the bulk of them," he notes. "Oh! Before I forget, Andra wanted me to remind you that she's looking forward to visiting you, when you finally decide to have children. No hurry, mind you, we have plenty of time, and she's grounded for a few years anyway."_ _

__Zevran chokes slightly while Aveline just stares, neck and cheeks slowly turning red._ _

___No hurry? A few years? I'm not-- I'm not pregnant?_ A small, choked sob of relief; followed, rapidly, by another of sheer guilt at being relieved. _Thank you. I will do what I can to make that happen, to make myself... to make that happen with someone who would be a good mother, not just as a careless promise.__ _

__"You will be a _wonderful_ mother," Dae assures her. "Just remember to continue to cherish love and life as you always have" He kisses her forehead softly, a feeling of warmth and contentment- with just a faint hint of pleasure- swirling inside her, restoring some of the missing ache in her body and heart._ _

__He leans back and smiles as he rises to his feet, revealing that the rest of him is just as impressive as his face and upper chest. And likely making her wish she knew his leathercrafter, if only to get Zevran a pair of trousers like the one's Dae is wearing. ~And...~ He hesitates, expression almost shy. ~And don't give up on her. It'll take time for her too, to find her way. But you gave her the chance and... I think she'll take it. I took the one my beloved Brandis gave me after all.~ Winking at Hawke, the pavitra dissolves into a flash of prismatic white light._ _

__Hawke stares after him, then pulls free of her Clan in order to sit down. Hard. Suddenly. _Oh hey, the floor is nice here. And her clan sounds really far away...__ _

__Things are fuzzy after that. Hawke recalls her Clan rushing into the room- Isabela and Anders in the lead. Which is strange because Anders doesn't live in Nyra anymore so that part was probably a dream. But Merrill and Varric are next, the elf looking dazed and sleepy. Helene, Seli, Wynne, Nox, Andy, Lux... Really, everyone that lives in or very close to Nyra. They're all here, all of them wanting to hug Hawke, to touch her just a moment so they can be sure she's really, truly back._ _

__It all glosses over in her mind, words faint and echoing, sights distant and out of focus. Soon enough, she slips entirely into slumber. Waking is just as gentle, just as languid and natural. The feeling of warmth and skin. Aveline's harder, warmer body against her back, a solid bulwark against danger. Merrill's delicate, almost lanky grace curled into a ball pressing against her stomach. Zevran's cool skin with the lines of almost but never quite tingling magic ink, draped across Hawke and Aveline like some kind of sensual blanket. Scents- honeysuckle, and leather, strong tea and steel, musk and wild flowers, a faint hint of seaspray and underneath all that, a hint of the lavender and vanilla that Merrill adds to the washing so their bedding stays nice smelling just a little longer._ _

__Sound comes soon after. Merrill's slow, almost reluctant breaths, Zevran's lack of sound, subtle even in sleep and Aveline's almost growling exhale. There's an extra noise, one she knows well, but heard less often- soft, almost as quiet as Zevran's and light, quick. Isabela too? She's just beyond Merrill, laying on Hawke's outstretched left arm, the pirate's hand twisted and tangled in Zevran's soft hair._ _

__And her Papa's rumbling snore from the side, explaining the tight clasp someone has on her wrist._ _

__She's home. She's safe. She's with _Clan_._ _

__It's over._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more chapters left, while we wrap up the series.


	26. Aftermath: Summerhill 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke continues trying to find her way home after the terrible ordeal she's undergone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added content note for this chapter: dubious consent, aftermath of rape/trauma.

Hawke sleeps most of the next day. In part, this is due to the sheer exhaustion: she'd pushed herself through days of fucking without rest, and it was only adrenalin that got her to the temple of Astea in the first place. But in part, it's the novelty: she's in her warm, safe bed full of Clan, basking in the comfort, soaking up the love. She was always a little cold, she realizes, ever since... well, she's got less body fat, so it was harder to get warm after that. Two or three other bodies seem to be just right for warming her.

Her body, starved for genuine rest, lets her have this.... for a little while. The third or fourth time she slurps down some broth and goes right back to bed, it finally rebels. Without warning, she flashes ice cold in her sleep, shuddering and shivering, twisting a little as if to protect herself from a blow.

There's a flurry of movement, a sleepy murmur after a snapped order. "Amata," Aveline says as she hovers over Hawke, her body arched protectively over her lover's without touching. "Hawke, wake up. Hawke, wake up, you're home." Next to the bed, Zevran carefully sets a still sleeping Merrill down in the chair there with a slight grunt of effort. She's a very slight person, but he's not exactly one for heavy lifting, especially from a reclining position.

"Lady," she whimpers, her eyes fluttering open. "No, please--" she begins, before her eyes meet Aveline's and she pulls back, panting for breath, heart racing.

"It's alright, amata," Aveline says softly, easing back a little. "I've got you, you're safe. No-one will touch you without your consent, I promise." _Why was she using Varric's name for me? What kind of dream was she having?_

_No-one will touch me -- but will I touch them? Rapist. I'm a rapist._ Her breath catches in her throat, but she swallows back the whimper that follows. "I-- Aveline. You're Aveline."

"Yes I am," the paladin says carefully. "I'm Aveline, your maorai. And you're my amata Hawke. You're safe here."

_'I could try to...'_ Hawke crumples, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't, I don't deserve you, I don't, don't--"

"Of course you do," Aveline protests. "You're Clan. You're my heart," she murmurs. "I love you Hawke, of course you're worth helping, protecting." Zevran gives Merrill one last glance to check on her, then moves to kneel on the edge of the bed.

"pressure you," Hawke mutters through her sobs, giving a shudder. "rape."

Aveline tenses. "I would n-" _Deep breath, Aveline. Deep breath. She doesn't mean to..._ "You're safe now, amata. This is home. We... we won't do that to you. I swear it."

The ex-slave, however, had heard what Aveline missed. Pressure you. "Hawke... why do you think you would do that?" he asks gently.

"Aveline," she whimpers, turning her face aside. "My Aveline, my-- I'm wrong, slut, whore, wrong."

The paladin's face blanks and she sucks in a breath. "What's wrong with being a slut or whore?" Zevran says carefully. "Isabela, Nox, Lux... even Seli to some people... we are all sluts and whores."

"No," she murmurs, rubbing at her eyes. "Zevran is Zevran. Nox and Lux are like Zevran." She takes a ragged, half-sobbing gasp. "I'm _wrong_."

"Hawke... I don't understand. Please try to explain what you mean," Aveline asks softly, eyes closed. But she hasn't moved, hasn't pulled away from Hawke.

"I--" she tries, in a small whisper that catches in her throat. "I raped--"

"No," both of them say instantly, Zevran continuing, "Hawke you would never. Not in your right mind. They were devils, they must have tricked you."

"Devils often use drugs and magic to control their captives. Make them do things, evil things, so they feel guilty," Aveline says gently. "It's not your fault. I know it feels like it is, but it's not." There's not a hint of doubt in her voice on the matter; she knows, with absolute faith, that Hawke would never do that to someone.

Hawke closes her eyes, whimpers. "It-- fits with-- before I left, we fought."

"Bi-" _No, not now. Focus on helping her. Hate them later._ "I... I'm not surprised you had to fight your way out," Aveline agrees. "I'm sorry you had to do that alone." She looks guilty for a moment, then amends, "with just Silence."

But Hawke shakes her head again. "not-- not in Hell. You and I, we fought."

"We..." Aveline's mind comes up empty for a long moment, then she flushes. "I- I'd almost forgotten given... given the five months in between." _One hundred and five days exactly._ "I was wrong. I don't care, as long as I have you in my life," she says, voice cracking. She winces a little. "Okay, I care who they are because I want you to be safe but I don't... as long as you're safe and happy, I don't care anymore."

Hawke whimpers, shaking her head. "I-- I need--" She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I can't--"

"Deep breaths," Zevran says gently. "Take a few deep breaths and then talk. Take your time, we can wait for when you're ready."

It takes her several minutes of deep breath and sobs, but slowly, she calms herself, becomes more fully awake. It's only then that her skin begins to warm, that she starts really looking at them instead of noting their faces and sliding her eyes away. That she straightens more, stops hunching and trying to hide in the covers. That she seems more herself.

"Sorry," she whispers, looking at her lap. "I-- it was just a nightmare."

Aveline shifts off of Hawke, laying on her side right next to her, Zevran taking a mirror position on Hawke's right. "Can you... talk about it now?" Aveline asks softly.

"The nightmare was... I'm forgetting it already," she admits. "The flashback when I woke up was worse. I-- I did some things," she begins carefully. "While I was there, I did things I... I deeply regret. I'm sorry I got confused and..."

"You were trapped in the Hells, tortured and... hurt," Aveline soothes her. "Exposed to drugs and infernal magic and... worse. Whatever you did, you did to survive, to come back to us. Bright... Dae already promised you're not lost. That you're... you. What happened was done to you, amata."

"The guilt will fade, eventually," Zevran whispers. "Never all the way- at least, not yet. But in time, it becomes... faded enough to ignore most days."

_But I did rape her._ Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out, tries to let the guilt go for now. _I know I did. That was me, was my accursed sex drive, not... not. One rape is not evil enough to undo the good I did, perhaps, but it was evil, and it did mark me._ Another deep breath. "I should get up. Stretch some." Her voice is small, timid.

"You've only been sleeping for... two hours," Zevran says after a quick glance at the clock. "But... perhaps some hot milk would help soothe you?"

_Only for two hours, but I was only awake an hour and a half, and before that I slept six hours, and before that I woke briefly after sleeping... Astea knows how long._ She takes a deep breath and nods. "Yes. Thank you."

The pair ease off the bed, Aveline coming around to pick Hawke up automatically before checking herself. Instead, she merely helps her lover up, then hovers protectively a few inches away. As they get up, Hawke notices that Zevran is wearing only a pair of rather tight silk shorts. Aveline is wearing a bit more, but even then, she'd not have expected the paladin to wear shorts and a light sleep shirt with anyone but her around. It covers everything and isn't tight, but it's light enough that it drapes pretty well. "Do you want to lean on me?" Aveline offers as Zevran moves ahead to start the stove.

_They're covered up. They think I was--_ She chokes back a small sob, full of love and compassion for her considerate lovers. _And yet, I'm grateful anyway. I don't... I don't want more sex. Not until I can trust myself._ Instead, she takes Aveline's arm, leaning on her a little more heavily than she would normally feel comfortable -- just to make sure Aveline understands how much she appreciates her.

Aveline does seem a little pleased about being able to help Hawke, even in this small way. Just as Zevran seems delighted when Hawke quietly thanks him for the lightly spiced hot milk. There's not much talking in the kitchen, them not wanting to press, Hawke not ready to open up. They just sit there, together, for almost an hour before Aveline moves them back to bed to sleep the rest of the night.

When morning comes, Aveline is gone, but Zevran is still curled up against Hawke. And Merrill is back in the mix, draped atop them both. Strangely, the elf is actually awake and staring at Hawke's face intently despite the tears blurring her vision. Hawke blinks awake; when she registers Merrill's face, her eyes flood with tears, and her face crumples. "My wife, my wife," she whispers in Elven.

Merrill jumps a little at the words. She stares, eyes wide, for a moment, then whispers back, "my sun, my stars?" in the same tongue. Not waiting for a reply, the elf presses forward to kiss Hawke deeply, unable to go a second longer with tasting Hawke's lips, feeling her kiss again. Knowing, skin to skin, she's back, she's alive.

Hawke stiffens; then, her brain overrides her instincts and she melts into the kiss, reaching to cling to Merrill tightly, to press herself closer, hold her tighter. She grips her painfully tightly, her nails digging in as she clings, her tongue shoving its way into her mouth; she rolls atop her, pressing her into the mattress with her hips, eyes closed, desperate for more, to be really truly sure it's her, that she still loves her and not just-- just--

Merrill mews softly in Hawke's mouth, her own body going pliant under the assault. Her mouth opens without pause, tongue stroking Hawke's and her hands go above her head to grip the headboard automatically as she grinds back against her lover. _Yes, yes. My Hawke, my sun, yes... Mine again, make me yours. Make me taste you, feel you._

Hawke grinds against Merrill's leg, clinging to her arms for support. Her long, ragged nails dig tightly into her wife's skin, breaking the smooth skin, but she doesn't seem to notice or care, keeping her mouth over Merrill's so the elf can't cry out too loudly, can't wake the others.

Merrill continues to respond eagerly but submissively, not protesting the pain or the aggression in the slightest. Indeed, she's grinding her own core against Hawke's leg just as she is. But regardless of how quiet Hawke's lips are keeping Merrill's moans and whimpers, the shaking of the bed is very obvious. Strong hands close over Hawke's, prying them away from cutting into the elf's flesh. "Hawke, pull back," Zevran says firmly in her ear. "Control yourself, control your need."

_Control--_ Hawke explodes backwards off the bed, tearing free of Zevran, realizing she's on the floor across the room before she's quite aware she moved at all. She stares at the bed in silent horror, hugging her knees, a thick layer of frost settling over her nightgown, growing thicker, as the room grows more and more chilled, the air icebox-like...

Merrill lets out a dismayed whimper, her eyes glazed and her breathing ragged- she's clearly not aware of much more than the loss of her lover, the sudden- and unwelcome- ending of their game. Cursing, Zevran reaches between her legs and strokes her, firmly, to set her to her peak. _Can't help bring her down and take care of Hawke, need to... distract Merrill for a few moments. That'll have to do._ That done, he tumbles after Hawke, careful to keep a few feet from the magus so she doesn't feel cornered. "Hawke! I need you to focus. Listen to me Hawke. Look at me. I need you to look at me, right here Hawke."

_Rape rape I raped her I raped Merrill,_ her mind screams over and over. _Just like Verraline I'm worthless I raped her raped._ The ice covers her face, her skin turning pale blue, no motion in her body except a small, constant shuddering. _No, no no, I should never have come back, should have stayed in the hells where I belong._

"Hawke look at me," Zevran repeats to no avail. Cursing ripely, he shouts for help. Twenty seconds later, Varric rushes into the room in his normal attire. He takes one look and downs an extract to protect him from the cold.

"Take care of Merrill," he snaps. "I got Hawke." Zevran hesitates but obeys the order, moving to carry the elf to the bathroom. Varric moves to his daughter and gently pats her cheek. "Hawke, enough."

_No!_ She pulls back, the ice growing thicker, terrified of hurting someone -- _Papa!_ \-- her eyes snap open, wide in horror. She breathes shallowly, heart pounding, noting how the frost coats the back of his hand. _I'm going to hurt him. I'm going to--_

_Breathe, Hawke._

She takes a deep breath. She swallows, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

"There we go. That's it, focus on me, daughter mine. Do you know where you are?" Varric asks firmly, reaching for her hand.

_Papa,_ her heart whimpers. _Papa, he will be disgusted, he will be ashamed, he will-- he will--_ She draws back, a small, strangled whimper the only noise she makes. He looks far away to her; as she shifts, ice cracks around her, drawing her attention. _Ice... I'm... Having a flashback? No; I am here. I know I am home. I have less illusions than Papa right now._

"Hey, hey it'll be okay. Zevran is taking care of Merrill and I got you." A beat and Varric thinks to add, "I'm under cold protection, I'm safe." _Flashback? Conditioning? Lot of... fodder for trauma in that damned book, assuming it's even true. Merrill had finger marks on her hip, bloody ones. And now Hawke's panicking. Probably conditioning._

_Safe. He thinks he's safe._ A quiet, bitter laugh, more sob than mirth. "Not safe."

"You are," he disagrees, then he smiles sharply. "And I can take you in a fight so I'm feeling pretty safe too."

_'Do you need more of me?'_ Hawke swallows, her breathing speeding up. _Verraline_ , she whimpers, but why can she hear it in a gruff Dwarven voice too, why can she picture his face, why--

The ice thickens, sealing her lashes shut. There's silence for a long moment, then a bite of sharp pain on the inside of her right elbow. "Deep breaths Hawke. Let yourself relax."

She cries out -- but the alarm and surprise jolts her out of her thoughts a moment. She takes a deep breath, whimpering as she exhales. _No... It's not safe... I..._ Despite herself, she takes another deep breath, then another. _I have to relax. I have to stop panicking before I hurt Papa too._

Later, she can reconstruct what happened: seeing her resilient panic, he injected her with a soothing tincture. But at the time, she only finds herself calming despite herself, finds the ice melting before she's really aware how bad it was getting.

Varric studies her carefully, then nods. "There we go. Back with me Hawke? Remember where you are?" He reaches out to take her hand, wanting to ground her with touch.

Still, she shies back. _Papa..._ "I-- I know I'm home," she whimpers, voice thick. "It's not safe. You're not safe." The 'with me' goes unspoken.

"Bullshit," Varric says blandly. "The day I can't take a scrawny elf girl with no gear is the day I shave my chest hair. I'm okay. You won't hurt me. I'd stop you." _Damn. Book is looking more and more like it's at least part true._

_Papa would stop me._ The thought is oddly comforting: when he realizes what she is, maybe he will stop her. _Bianca is effective at putting me down,_ she realizes, and it's almost funny. "I," she whispers, her eyes darting to the bed behind him. "I hurt--" _'Dont dance around her pain.'_ Zevran, this time. "I raped--" she begins again, but she can't finish.

Varric frowns, well able to puzzle that together. "Can you get back into bed so I can check in on Merrill? You have to get in the bed and stay there though or I can't help her."

_Merrill,_ she whimpers silently. _Yes, help Merrill._ She nods, swallowing hard as she starts to stand -- and slides back, landing on her behind again.

_Right, of course she can't stand, she's practically skeletal._ Sighing softly he steps in and hauls her up with a grumpy, but somehow fond, "almost like your first taste of whiskey. Least you don't smell this time."

She clasps his hand, stumbling to her feet. She works her way to the bed, climbing into it on her own, curling up in a tight ball. _Just rest now. It won't be long and there will be shouting so rest while you can._

After getting her settled, Varric steps to the doorway to have a quiet talk with Zevran in aurun, so Hawke can't follow it. Not that she's likely paying attention at the moment. A minute later, he comes to the side of the bed and leans in a little to look Hawke in the face. "Hey. She's fine. Sleepy but fine. Seems, uh, pretty content to be honest."

_She's... Fine?_ The words don't seem to make sense -- or maybe it's the world that stopped making sense. _But I..._

Varric nods at her. "She's fine. Very... content," he repeats awkwardly. "She was, uh, almost... finished so... Zevran... took over and... finished... things."

_She was-- she wanted that? Wanted... me? I -- but I--_ Hawke whimpers. "She didn't--" _She kissed me. She wanted this. I served her well_. She lowers her gaze, swallows hard. "I see," she whispers.

"No," Varric says firmly. "That's not enough- what are you thinking? Say it out loud. What did you think when I told you that. You've been conditioned, Hawke, your brain was changed to think in certain patterns. You need to share your thoughts so I can help you fight it off."

She shakes her head. "I haven't," she whispers. "I-- I didn't wait for a yes or no. I just took what I wanted. I ra-- I tried to-- even if she enjoyed it, I still--"

_Yeah, that's... a problem. But... very off._ "Hawke. I need you to take a deep breath, then start at the beginning. Right from when you first woke up, walk me through every step. Alright?" _Hopefully she'll usefully vocal about it but if she's not..._ Moving casually, he readies another infusion.

Hawke takes a deep breath. Then another. _You can do this. I can do this. I just have to tell Papa. He'll fix this._ "Alright. Alright. I was-- I was dreaming. There was-- it doesn't matter. I was dreaming. Then Merrill was... she was right there." Her eyes cloud with tears. "My Merrill, my beloved Merrill, after so long, and I-- and I--"

"No," Varric says. "Sorry, I know said from when you woke up, but if you were dreaming just before, then I need to know about that too," he orders firmly.

She blinks, takes a deep breath. "I was-- Alright. My dream. I was... Someone had Helene. It wasn't Ta-- the devil who took me, it was someone else. I had to find them, but I couldn't, and Merrill kept saying my name from far away, and then I woke and she was really there."

The dwarf studies her intently, looking for any sign of evasion or deceit. Not seeing any, he nods after a moment. "Alright. Helene is safe. They're at Voice, with Isabela, Andy and Seli. Okay. So you were having a bad dream about Clan in danger. And then you woke up with Merrill right there, in front of you for the first time on over a hundred days."

She nods. "I-- I felt-- it hurt, seeing her. Remembering. So I-- and then she kissed me, and I didn't-- I wasn't really there until I heard Zevran telling me to get control of myself. Then I realized I was-- that I was holding her down," she whispers, voice laced with shame. "I was holding her down and covering her mouth and hurting her."

"Can you tell me why that happened? What were you thinking when you, uh, initiated things?" Varric asks carefully.

She shakes her head. "I wasn't," she croaks. "I-- it was just-- lips on mine, animal instinct."

_Conditioned is putting it lightly... though, to be honest, that's not entirely out of character. It's more like she was... like all her restraint and empathy was detached from sex. Great._ "Okay. Have you... have you kissed anyone else since you got back?"

She shakes her head with a whimper. "I-- I warned-- I didn't want-- touch. I didn't want to be touched. For fear of..." She shakes her head again. "Only Dae. Dae kissed me."

_Dae? Who is- right, the pavitra they summoned. Which... probably doesn't count._ "Okay. We can work on that. Get you... readjusted to touching. You did it before, you can do it again. We just have to... root out the changes they made to you, heal you back to the way you were. You spent two days cuddled up with Clan without issue. It was just wen Merrill kissed you, when you were still half asleep, that you... lost control."

_Half asleep, that sounds..._ Her eyes widen, and she sits bolt upright, paling. She takes a few gasps of air, the medicine in her body warring with her horror, her disgust. _I'm going to be sick--!_

"Hawke," Varric's voice snaps out like granite breaking. He downs the infusion, then tucks the vial away and focuses his mind on hers. "Hawke, I need you to focus. What's wrong?"

_Verraline, my Lady! I raped her, I did the same thing to her, my Lady, my only love (no no not only never only) my Lady, used her, treated her like a dildo, my Lady, told me she didn't even mind, she was **used** to it, Lady, Lady, I'm sorry, I should never have left you behind, I'm so sorry,_ She whimpers, hand over her mouth, trying to get a grip on her emotions. _I'm sorry I'm sorry (say something) I'm sorry_

"Hawke, focus on me. Focus on my words. Are you listening?" Detecting that she's at least paying attention to him, Varric pushes on. "Verraline is a lilin. A devil. In the hells. If she'd wanted you to stop, she could have done it easily. Teleported away if nothing else. But she didn't want you to stop. She wanted you to do that. She drugged you. Helene and Wynne- I asked them about- after Tenny tried to tempt me, with the fake mirror, I asked about lilin. They told me a lot about their tricks- they commonly use drugs and mind magics to seduce and manipulate their marks. Did she ever get you to drink something? Eat something, rub anything- yeah. There we go. Yeah, she drugged you."

_'I didn't say yes then, but I was willing, I promise. I want to have sex with you.' Papa doesn't understand, can't understand. Lady and I-- that was something special, was-- was-- she was Clan. Is Clan._ Hawke chokes back a sob.

_Mother of Andraste, she- not important. That's... Hawke can't not love someone, I'll never convince her to stop. But maybe I can get her to realize that just because she loves this bitch, doesn't mean that she's good for her._ "Hawke, I need you to look at me. Really look at me." He takes a deep breath. "What you did, just now, with Merrill? That was... bad. You have consent, but not... recent consent. You should have... double checked. Before initiating things."

"But," he holds up a hand. "It wasn't entirely your fault. You've been conditioned to... do that. And Merrill shouldn't have kissed you like that, without double-checking with you or when you were still partially asleep. That was bad too."

_I'm her wife, of course she kissed me, she-- she's Merrill._ She whimpers.

"...and she's _your_ wife so by that logic..." Varric prompts her, knowing she's smart enough to make the jump. With enough pushing anyway.

_Kissing is different than sex. You never, ever do what I did,_ she argues.

Varric nods slightly. "They're different in scope, yes, but not completely. She kissed you without consent. That's wrong too. Especially given you'd made it pretty clear you don't want to be touched lately."

_It's different._ She lowers her hand from her mouth, taking a deep breath. _... you read minds now._

"Now?" he replies mildly, a slight smirk on his lips.

She stares at him in mute horror for a moment before her shoulders slump in relief. _No, you haven't always read minds. I used to be able to lie to you._

"I could always do it, I just didn't often choose to," he allows. "But you're going nonverbal and I can't allow you to go silent on me. So until you're better... I'll do what I have to keep you and our Clan safe."

_Non... verbal?_ She takes a deep breath, shakes her head. _Nevermind. Varric. You **can't** read my mind. There's--- there's things I (don't want you to know)-- you don't want to know._

"...Tenny sent a message, delayed ten minutes after you got back," Varric says softly. "It... it was sent here, to your place." A pause. "It was... detailed. About what was done to you, in Stygia."

_The bomb. His bomb. He really sent it_. She stares at him, hands trembling. _Papa already knows. He knows all the -- all the horrible-- oh Papa. No. No, he wouldn't look at me the same. He didn't read it-- no, this is Papa. He read it. Then he erased his memory._ Her hands still, and she takes a deep breath.

"I didn't erase a thing. You lived it. I can stand to know it from words," Varric says softly. "If it helps you, even a little, I'll engrave the words in my mind forever."

Her hand comes back up to cover her mouth, her face softening as tears start fresh. "Papa," she whispers, overcome. _Papa was always the best of the Clan (the real heart of the Clan) he shouldn't have to do this (you're hurting him too) shouldn't torture himself (you stupid worthless bitch, look what you did) Papa, my Papa_

"Hey now," Varric says softly. "None of that kind of talk. You're our heart, Hawke. I'm... the foundation, the bedrock. I keep things stable, sure, but you're the reason the Clan exists."

_And you're the reason **I** exist ('by **killing yourself** , you would have only put us in more danger?') ('you know what to do') ('I love you all')_

Varric takes a deep breath but his voice never quavers. "Well, that's what foundation is for. Gives a place to build on. And... Hawke. It's okay. You came back to us. You went through Baator, literally, and fought your way back. You did everything I could have asked of you. I know it was hard, I know... you suffered and stumbled. But you came back to us. I'm proud of you."

_Stygia. I was in Stygia. ('You did everything I could have asked') ('You've pleased me, little bird') Lady, my Lady, I-- I left her behind._ A deep breath. Another. _I raped her. (She could have teleported away) No, she couldn't. She loved me. Just like I loved Rosemary. 'You're going non-verbal.'_ Another deep breath, and she lets it out. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I-- I'm having a bad day."

"Stygia is the fifth layer of Baator. Kind of the the evil Scrolls of evil Nyra," Varric explains softly. "And... yeah. That's... kind of expected. You're going to have a lot of bad days, for a while. But they'll get fewer, less bad. Just give it time." He hesitates, then leans in. "Has..." _No, Zevran or Merrill wouldn't but maybe..._ "Aveline loves you, right? Do you believe that? Know that? Right, good. Has she never turned you down? Told you she's not in the mood or put a halt to things?"

_('I could try to--' a knife in her hand, throwing it so she doesn't plunge it into her breast, the world freezing over, Aveline shouting for her)_ "Yes," she whispers, swallowing hard. "She has."

_Damnit._ "Her offering more isn't the same thing, Hawke. She loves you, wants you to be happy, but she's... confident enough, self-aware enough, to not push herself past what she can handle. Not perfectly maybe, but well enough. And... Seli. I know you want to have sex with Seli, but she told you 'no' and you've never pressured her on it. Asked, sure, but never tried to... force the issue."

_('So you don't consider yourself connected to me? or Varric?') I'm a monster. I'm a whore, I crave sex so badly, I need so much of it. I'm lost without it. Mother was right -- I'd do anything for sex. The only reason I never raped someone before is that I had Zevran, I had as much of it as I could want. Being alone, for months, brought out the real me._ A deep breath. "This is.. Thank you, Papa. But this isn't.." _something we can fix. Something you can help with. Something that will go away with pretty words._ "I should try to get some rest." _Do something, anything, to forget, to run away. To hide from this awful truth._

The dwarf leans in so they're only a few inches away. Voice low, almost gentle, he threatens her. "If you run, I'll chase you down. Wherever you go, I'll find you, be on this plane or any other. Even Mileen's. Do you understand me, daughter mine?"

She stares into his eyes, horrified. _Papa... No, Papa. It's better this way. I'm better off dead than destroying our clan, your clan, this wonderful clan of ours._

Varric stares back with a face of unyielding stone. "I swear it on my soul. If you run away from this, from us, I'll follow."

_No, Papa... I-- I can't-- you can't make me choose, between destroying you and destroying Merrill, Zevran, Aveline-- I can't decide that, I can't, I don't have it in me._ She closes her eyes, shuddering, wrapping her arms around her gut.

"Then you're going to have to get better, won't you," he demands. "You're going to have to face this, unlearn the conditioning, regain your self-control and self-respect. You'll have to heal, become the amazing, loving, wonderful Hawke we all know you can be again." _I refuse to let this be the end of you. I refuse._

Hawke whimpers, gasping for breath. _I can't I can't I can't (Dae said I can heal) I can't I can't-- no. That's not right. I can. I won't. I won't let this break apart my clan. I won't let someone destroy them even if it's me. I won't let me hurt them. I won't let the devils win._

"There's my girl," Varric says, backing up a little. He's smiling, a proud, honest smile. "Knew you were in there, behind the pain and panic. Just needed a little push."

_I won't let me hurt them. If that means losing them all. If that means leaving Nyra. If that means dying. I **won't** let this happen. I can't. I love them too much for that._ She takes a deeper breath, trying to get her body at least under control. _Tired. So tired._ She takes another, shifting on the bed until she's lying down, huddled in a ball, facing her Papa.

"No," Varric snaps, then takes a deep breath. _That's not up to you, not right now. I think we need to get you somewhere... controlled. Summerhill. I'll talk with Aveline as soon as you're asleep, she can arrange it. You need rest and more help than just the Clan can give. That's what the place is for._ "This isn't over, daughter mine. I'm not letting you run away from this. But you need sleep, you're still recovering physically as well. Rest a bit and... and we'll keep fighting this together tomorrow."

"Yes, Papa," she says softly, her eyes closing. _For now, just submit. Easier to submit, let him take what he wants, fight again tomorrow._

Varric manages to keep the pain off his face until her eyes close but it's a near thing. "...you want me to tell you a story?" he asks, voice a little rough. At her tiny nod, he grabs a chair and pulls it over so he can hold her hand as he speaks. "You remember the story of Vaynur and her sons, Lethun and Murion, and the steel dragon they crafted? Their battle against the Bloodrender's army was only the first adventure... let me tell you of the time they decided to fly across the ocean in order to chase a falling star..."

\---

Things are difficult.

Hawke resists going to Summerhill the next morning; she insists her reputation will be ruined, her ability to help anyone compromised. But when it becomes clear how bad off she is, and amidst assurances that her commitment will be under a false name and kept quiet, she eventually agrees to travel to the auxiliary campus, away from where anyone might see her. Anders transports her personally -- and Varric, Merrill, Seli, and Andy, who refuse to let her go anywhere without Clan. Not ever again.

A few days later she asks for Helene's ring, so she can contact Estelle. Helene themself travel out with the ring to meet Hawke, agreeing to make the call with Hawke rather than let her do so in private. And so, the pair of them, secluded in Hawke's quarters, open the connection once more to speak with Estelle.

"E--Estelle?" asks Hawke, her voice quiet, tentative.

"Hawke," the drow's voice throbs with relief. "It's so good to hear from you. Helene told me you were back safe but... hearing your voice is better." A pause, then she adds, "I'm alone, just in case you... needed to talk about anything private. Claudia is in the living room, if you're up for talking to her afterwards, even just to say hi, but I'm alone right now."

"Estelle," she whimpers. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You--" A deep breath. "I can't talk about it yet, but you were instrumental in bringing me home."

"I- I was?" She sounds startled but very pleased. "I... okay. Thank you for... I'm glad. I'm just so glad you're home. How... is there anything I can do to... help you now? Do you want to see me? Or visit? You don't have to, I just... you're welcome here. And it's safe. I've double layered my private quarters, in addition to the wards we have just around. Even a Duke of the Baator would be stalled in their attempts to enter my chambers now."

"I-- I have a favor to ask," she replies, her voice still too soft. "I... it's going to be a strange favor but... please, it would mean a lot to me." A deep breath. "There's a devil I want you to... to summon. To bind. Treat well, but-- I just-- she needs to be out of Stygia, somewhere she can flourish."

Estelle is very, very quiet. For almost a full minute. "Can... can you... give more detail on that?" she asks, voice tightly controlled. "I'm not saying no, I just... I need more than that Hawke." _This... this can't be a coincidence... can it?_

"I-- there's..." She takes a deep breath. "I can't talk about it, much. It... but... Not the devil who took me, but another one. She.. she doesn't want to be the way she is. She doesn't want that life anymore. And she loved me, truly she did. Does. She helped keep me together, keep me whole and sane so I could return. She deserves better than to be left behind there. I can't go back and get her -- I just, even if I could, I can't. But if you called her-- I have her true name, if you bound her so it's safe..."

Estelle takes a deep breath, the ring picking it up due to the volume. "Does... what's her... use name?" _This... gods, I was going to ignore the letter but if Hawke is... if this is really the same being then... what should I do?_

"With-- with me, she called herself Verraline," says Hawke, her voice soft.

_It was signed Regina but... it's common for devils to have many use names. And... that slight bead of ink at the start. Like the writer was deciding which name to use..._ "Hawke, have you... have you spoken about this to anyone? Who else is there right now?"

"Helene."

"This one sends greetings."

"yeah," Hawke agrees, rubbing the back of her neck. "I haven't told anyone. I really-- I don't feel comfortable talking to them about this. But you understand devils. Your culture has protocols and... and you can handle them safely. She's a lilin, like Tenachka, you can-- whatever was done to Tenachka, you can just do to her, right? It would be safe? I-- I don't want you to get hurt but..."

Estelle winces, thankfully unseen. _I certainly can't- won't- make the same deal that Tenchka is bound by. I love Hawke dearly, but I won't sacrifice a half dozen newborns for five thousand years of service, even for her sake Fuck, not even for Claudia's sake. Inheriting it like Grandmother did is bad enough._ "I... I can at least try and talk to her," Estelle hedges. "Why... why do you want this done?"

"She deserves a chance," she whispers. "Something-- we summoned a pavitra, Dae, to ensure I wasn't overshadowed. Something he said to me in private... she deserves a chance to learn differently. To understand. She... she's Clan, Estelle."

_She's **what**? Clan? How does that even-_ "Hawke, sceleratis can't change like- wait, you said a pavitra said she can change? Are you certain it was a pavitra?"

"I'm sure," she says softly. "I-- I did something, while I was there. Don't.. don't spread it around, but... I... I did something." She takes a deep breath, lets it out.

"...I'll trust you then," Estelle says quietly. "I can't promise I can make a deal as... strong as the one Tenachka did but... I'll try. If she's... if she's Clan, really Clan, she deserves the chance." _Sweet Ciren, what am I doing?_

"Don't give up anything you can't afford. Don't hurt yourself. You're Clan too," Hawke cautions, rapidly. "I love you, Estelle."

Estelle feels her lips curve, her heart soften. "I love you too, Hawke. I'll be careful, just the same as I was during... during your absence. Though... if she is Clan, I might not be so... strict on taking sex off the table entirely," she muses thoughtfully.

"Did-- did the letter I sent help?" she asks quietly -- the first she's mentioned the letter aloud. In truth, she isn't sure if it reached them. She trusts Verraline, but the image of it collecting dust in a drawer somewhere, unread, seems too possible to be ignored.

"Yes," the drow says instantly. "We weren't sure we could trust it but even as a... risky, uncertain hope, it helped. I... I gather Verraline was the one that passed it on to Tenachka?"

"Yes. She offered -- she said she knew someone, could get the message through."

"Can... can you tell me about her?" Estelle asks softly. "What's she like?"

_Posessive. Jealous. Fierce. Demanding. Dominating. Mine_. Hawke lets out a small whimper. "I'm sorry. I can't. I-- I'm sorry."

"Sshhhh," Estelle croons. "It's okay, my loving Hawke, it's okay. I did not mean... anything delicate. Just... lighter things. But if you can't, that's okay."

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just-- I just can't."

"Hawke, that's okay," Estelle reminds her. "If you can't, you can't." Adopting a teasing one, she adds, "you know I'd only force you to do something you didn't want to do in a game, if you agreed beforehand.."

"Ah! This one is not sure--" begins Helene, but it's too late. Hawke has dissolved into sobs, curled around the ring. The small blue Oracle rushes across the room, rubbing Hawke's back soothingly. "I am here. You are safe," they say, uncharacteristically gently.

"Hawke? Hawke! What did I-" _Devils. Lilin, **Rape**. I'm such a stupid bitch, what is-_ "Oh gods Hawke, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't- I wouldn't- Hawke, it's okay, I- Helene, please, is she-?"

"She's okay. We're okay." insists Helene. "Take a deep breath, Hawke."

"They're right," Estelle agrees quickly. "It was- it was just a bad joke. I'm very, very sorry. I won't- I won't do that again. Please be okay."

Hawke makes a soft mewling noise; Helene replies with a more comforting sound. "This one will get Beinn Varric. Please, try to talk to Estelle?" The next soft mewling noise is somewhat affirmative. Taking that as a yes, Helene hurries from the room, leaving Estelle to try and distract Hawke.

"Umm, so.... oh! Claudia. She just had her fifteenth birth day last month. I got her ten pounds of granite, a very rare metal that fuzzes time, almost like a variable speed haste spell. She wants to build timing mechanisms out of it for what she calls remote denotation fuses. It has military applications of course, but she's trying to help with mining efforts. If it works as she hopes, it would allow a miner to set off an explosive that is perfectly timed or something. I've been trying but I can't follow along how it's supposed to work but she thinks she can get the metal to react with some other things in a way that would allow it to... somehow 'know' the right time to go off. Somehow." She sucks in a breath, able to ramble only so long without an actual pause. "Of course, I got her something more romantic as well. Actually two things. Once was, umm, a new toy for herself, but the other was something you inspired me to get- we have matching tattoos now. Ciren's symbol but with each other's name in it, on our shoulders. Trite, I know, but... she just... lit up when I suggested it."

Hawke lifts her head just a little as the door bursts open. She lowers it, closing her eyes. _Papa's here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare Helene that badly._ "Sorry," she whispers to the ring.

"You didn't do anything wrong at all," Estelle says instantly, then falls silent at Varric's voice.

"Hey daughter mine. What happened? Talk to me, Hawke, tell me what happened?" The dwarf takes Hawke's hand, knowing she craves contact and comfort but isn't ready to be hugged yet, even by him.

"Estelle made a joke," she murmurs, her voice sounding emotionally distant, as though she's disconnected from it. "I-- it was just a joke."

"It was a stupid, thoughtless joke," the drow clarifies quickly, remorse thick in her voice. "I- it was about sex and kink and I just- I wasn't thinking."

"Hey," Varric snaps. "Both of you, take three deep breaths, nice and slow. Hawke, I want you to look at me while you do it. Right at me, right here." It takes Hawke a moment to focus on Varric, but she manages to, taking the deep breaths as indicated. "Good, that's good. Okay. Are you back with us Hawke? Back here, with me, holding your hand and talking with all three of us? Safe and with your loved ones, sitting in this admittedly not so well built wooden chair with kind of thing cushions," Varric says, voice smooth and soft.

"I'm here," she says softly. "I-- Thank you."

"Always," Varric says gently, giving her hand a squeeze. "You want to keep talking with Estelle or do you need to rest?" Estelle is silent, letting Hawke make the decision on her own.

"I-- I have to tell her a few more things. Then I can rest." _Like Verraline's name._

"Alright. Estelle, you still-"

"Yes, of course. Right here, whenever you need me," she says quickly. "Go ahead Hawke."

"Can... can we have privacy? I-- Helene can stay," she adds quickly.

Varric studies Hawke for a long moment. "You realize I'll get it from you eventually anyway, right?" he points out not unkindly.

"I-- I know, but.. " _I don't want you to intervene._

Varric considers for a moment. "How about... either I can sit in the corner and promise to stay quiet or you can promise to tell me everything as soon as you're done."

"Al-alright, You... you can stay." She takes a deep breath.

"Thank you," Varric says soberly, squeezing her hand again tightly before letting go to take lean against the wall. "Alright, shutting up for now."

Hawke swallows. "Estelle, are you.. are you still willing to...?"

"Yes, of course I am. Again, I can't... promise I can make a bargain we'd both be okay with but I'll try my hardest, I give you my word as the Heir of Famiglia Emerison," Estelle says with a firm tone.

"Alright. Do you-- do you want the name now or do you want me to write to you?"

"Break it into at least three parts and put a small prayer between each part," Estelle instructs her. "Then spell it, slowly. In common," she adds quickly.

A quick glance toward Varric, then she complies. _Please don't do anything to screw this up._ "Tantra blessed-are-those-who-love-for-they-have-seized-Heaven concu blessed-are-those-who-mourn-for-they-have-known-love siscen blessed-are-those-who-yearn-for-they-will-be-fulfilled tiæ. I don't know the spelling for sure, but I believe it's spelled: " she begins, before spelling it out.

Helene corrects, "It's likely apple echo, not apple yellow."

Varric studies Hawke rather intently, his face in a fairly neutral expression. Estelle hum softly, then reads back the spelling to confirm it with Helene. "Alright. Do... do you want me to get in touch with you with my results or..?"

"Please," she says. "Thank you."

"Do you... have anything else you want me to say or ask or... anything?" Estelle asks quietly.

"No, I--" Then she feels the squeeze against her finger, the warning that she's running out of time. "I love you, Estelle."

"I love you as well, mio piccolo falco," Estelle says huskily. "Visit when you can, call sooner," she finishes quickly.

_Piccolo, that's--_ "I will. Take care." _Something. I can't recall._

"Take ca-" And the ring shuts down, its charge for the day exhausted.

Varric moves back to Hawke, eyes thoughtful. "She's really sweet on you," he notes. "Very different than when she's talking with anyone else, even friends."

"She is." Hawke's tone makes it clear how sweet on Estelle Hawke is, though her brow remains furrowed. "Helene, can you translate what Piccolo means?"

"Little," they say simply. "She called you, little hawke or falcon."

Hawke's eyes widen, and she stiffens. "Oh," she says, her voice small.

Varric winces a little. "Helene, if you talk to Estelle next, can you tell her to avoid that name," he requests quietly, gently resting his hand over Hawke's.

"Yes," they say rapidly. "This one--" A pause. "This one has questions." They sound hesitant, almost ashamed. "If it is allowed to ask."

"Of course," says Hawke quietly, but Helene doesn't speak, glancing to Varric. _Ouch. But fair._

"...yeah, go ahead. Just... go slow," Varric confirms. _Be careful._

"This one would like to know how... how it can be that... that Honored Hawke would.." They don't seem to have any trouble going slow. In fact, they seem terrified of continuing. But they swallow, and ask anyway, in a small, meek voice: "How can a devil be Clan?"

Varric shifts uneasily, but he doesn't look away from Hawke. _Well... go ahead Hawke. Answer the nice Seeker's question._

"She just is," whispers Hawke.

"This one-- this one is not satisfied with this answer," they say, anguished. "This one... this one worked hard to earn Honored Hawke's esteem. This one strove to prove themself to you. And yet this one is only barely Clan, only because of the kindness of Honored Madam Zevvy. But the-- the devil that--"

Hawke bows her head. "Sorry," she whispers, eyes brimming with tears.

"Enough," Varric barks. "Helene, you're out of line. You're not just here as a boon to Zevran, you've earned your way in for a lot of damned reasons. Hawke... Clan is isn't just up to her. Verraline is... probationary. Hawke loves her. I won't dispute that. Whether she deserves to be love, whether she's safe to love, debatable. But we can't tell Hawke who she can love." Switching to gnomish, he adds, "my daughter has been hurt, her mind muddled. Judging her for her actions now is unfair."

Helene stares at them, tears pricking their eyes. They lower their gaze, standing, clutching their satchel to themself. "This one apologizes. This one will go." They whisper these words to the floor, already moving toward the door, but they pause as they approach it, turning back for a moment. "This one is worthy," they say, voice level, regarding both of them evenly. "Bright Astea said so."

"I don't dispute that a second," Varric says softly. "I meant it when I said you've earned your place in the Clan. You are Clan, please don't doubt that." Again in gnomish, "you have a right to be hurt. Just... remember she's broken right now."

Hawke whimpers, swallowing hard. "Helene... I named you Clan. I don't dispute that either. I-- I never valued you enough, and I'm sorry, but when I saw you were hurting, I, I had to-- I knew you were Clan. Please, don't... just because I haven't said the words, don't think..."

Helene's face softens, just a touch. "Understood," they say quietly, and then let themself out of the room.

"Talk later?" Varric asks before they can leave the room. Getting a nod, he turns back to Hawke. "So... asking Estelle to track down... Verraline?" he asks neutrally.

Hawke nods. "I-- she deserves a chance. She didn't deserve to be left there, alone."

Varric considers that a long moment, then nods curtly. "You're not to talk, see, interact or even read something she sends without my say-so. Understood?"

"...Papa?" she asks quietly, looking up through her tears.

"Verraline. Until I decide she's safe, you don't try to met with her, directly or indirectly. Can you swear to that?" Varric demands. "If Estelle makes contact, she'll send word to me, not you. Everything about Verraline is filtered through me. Understood?"

She shakes her head as he speaks. "No, it's not-- she loves me. She wouldn't hurt me."

"Hawke, she already has. She's... she's like Anders. Right now, you two being together isn't safe or healthy. You both need to heal before that can be possible," Varric tries to explain. _I'm not budging on this, Hawke..._

Hawke swallows, lowering her gaze. "I'll-- I'll do anything you say, Papa, you know that," she whispers. "But you're wrong about her. She's hurting so badly, and she has only me to turn to. It's wrong to turn her away."

"I'm not... I'm not turning her away. Estelle is going to work with her. Let your Clan do what you can't right now," Varric says softly. "I'll even write with her. Talk with her over the ring. And... if you do well in the next couple of months, maybe you can write her as well."

Hawke gives a small nod. "I know you don't... you don't trust her." _'they are literal incarnations of evil so there's no need to be able to be friends, no?'_ "But you're wrong. She's... She's not like the others."

"Convince me," Varric says simply. "Explain why you think that."

Hawke closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she speaks, her voice is soft, both tender and wounded.

"She came to me when I needed help, and I knew what she was after. I never forgot."

Varric keeps his face impassive, listening. _Forget? I think you're self-editing but even if you aren't... just because you remember something doesn't mean you're applying it (and not for the first time)._

"But after our deal was done, she stayed with me. She comforted me. And maybe it was a trick, maybe it wasn't," Hawke continues.

_Course it was, daft girl (you know better)_

"She took care of me, giving me what I needed. It was equitable trade, at that point."

_Nothing she could give you (my daughter) is worth what she took._

"But... she had to leave, and when she came back, things were different. She needed my approval, in a way impossible to fake. She glowed when I called her my love, and wilted when I turned from her. She loved me. And she brought me things: nice sheets, a dog bed for Silence, incense, books. She fairly shone with pride when I was pleased."

_That... would be promising, if she wasn't a thousands of year old devil that spends all her time learning, practicing and honing skills for manipulating and seducing people. But she is, so (fuck) no. Not sold._

"At... toward the end, she grew possessive. She was scared to lose me, not just the prospect of my soul, but me. She worried my Clan would reject me for loving her. She wanted me to stay, promised to take care of me."

"That- that's not love Hawke," Varric says firmly. "That's sick. Obsession. What you just said? That sounds like she took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, seduced you, then tried to guilt you into abandoning us for her. I'm not convinced."

She shakes her head. "I... can I tell you something and have you not... spread it around to the rest of the Clan?" she asks quietly.

Varric shrugs a little. "Sure." _Can is ability, not a promise. And I'm already holding back a lot._

Hawke nods, looking down. She takes a deep breath, her hands folding together to prevent shaking. But she looks up, meets his eyes, before speaking: "Dae told me that she did love me. That given time, she could become a Pavitra."

_Dae? The pavitra (wonder why no Andraste this time?). Wait, what (the hel- heavens)?_ Varric stares at Hawke blankly.

Hawke searches his face, looking for something, anything. _Masks, again._ "It's... four times, in Andraste's memory, it's happened," she whispers. "That part he said aloud, but he didn't tell the others what I did. I don't... I don't want... they won't understand. But you will. Or, even if you don't, you need all the variables if you're going to be in charge of me."

Varric shakes his head, trying to focus. "Wait. Sorry, back that up and try again? The pavitra that the head priestess summoned in the holiest place in the main temple of Astea said _what now_?"

She smiles, fondly. "My Lady loves me. Truly loves me, as Astea would define love. That's why-- that's why she was so hurt, so lost, when I left. That's why I had to save her."

"Okay..." Varric says slowly, his eyes wide and a bit wild. "Astea's servant confirmed that a _lilin_ loves you. Loves you loves you. Okay. I... I can... give me a minute to... rework things in my head."

She looks at her lap, taking a deep breath before she glances back up. _Sorry. But it was important._ "And I her. She is Clan."

Varric takes a deep breath. "Alright. I'll... I'll grant you that is sounds like your Verraline has... deserves a chance. So yeah, I'll give Estelle the go ahead and help if she needs it. But... but you both need to heal first. Dae said 'given time' she could be good. A few days isn't much time. Let Estelle help her for now. You can write each other," _though I'll be screening your letters,_ "and maybe- maybe, if you make good progress- maybe you can visit each other _with a chaperone_ later on."

Hawke nods. "Thank you," she says quietly. "You probably still think I'm a fool, but... she helped me so much. I wouldn't have been able to get back without her -- and Silence, of course. But, without her, Helene would have lost so much more."

Varric frowns, distracted by this last bit. "Wait, what's this about Helene?"

Her smile fades, and she looks down. "I... I could see what happened, during the wager," she begins, carefully. "Only sometimes. But... I saw... when Helene was taken. When... when they were... when they lost their finger. That's when I began... that's when I traded. I let-- I let Verraline--" A deep breath. "It was with her help that I was able to rescue Helene."

_And they were worried they weren't (worthy) Clan. Damn it._ "Hawke... I see." He takes a deep breath. "Will you agree to the... restrictions I said? About your contact with Verraline?"

She nods. "I said I would. Yes. Of course."

"Alright then. Then... we've agreed. Okay. Do you understand why? The restrictions, my concerns, do you understand why?" Varric asks gently.

"You think she'll hurt me," she says quietly. "Or try to take me away."

"Yeah. You don't think she might? Even though she has?" Varric probes.

Hawke sighs. "She hasn't. Not outside of the bedroom."

"You just finished saying she tried to convince you to abandon us, to keep you for herself," Varric counters.

"She was frightened," Hawke points out. "She _didn't_ convince me. She didn't _hurt_ me." She blinks, thinking over the last few sentences. "She didn't try to take me away, either, she just wanted me to stay with her, but I can... that might be splitting hairs."

"What about in the beginning- when you first... bargained with her? Was that not... painful? Did you love her then? Did you want to... pay her price? Or was that... coercion?" Varric asks, voice gentle, eyes relentless.

She shudders. "I-- that was-- that was bargaining," they argue. "And, it didn't hurt me. She was... she was gentle."

"She was seducing you. Lulling. It was a honey trap. Did she give you anything to drink? Use any oils, lotions or scents on you?" he asks pointedly.

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "She used massage oil," she admits. "I knew she was-- I knew what she was after. I didn't..." _I hated myself, afterward, for liking it. For wanting it. For liking being defiled. For going back the second time_. "I didn't fall for it, not then."

"So you admit that she drugged you into wanting sex." Varric smiles thinly. "That she raped you. Maybe you agreed to it, sure, but she used Helene's life to pressure you into it, then addicted you to it with drugs. Maybe she did fall for you, the evidence does support that. But it started with hurt and wrongness, however it ended. That needs to be addressed before anything good can be built between you."

_Raped. Verraline... raped **me**_. Hawke's eyes flood with tears, and she shakes her head, looking down. "I consented," she whispers, knowing how little anyone had cared for that excuse when it had been Rosemary. "I knew-- I let her touch me, Varric, before she put any oil or anything. She-- in truth, she didn't need any oils. I was... I was..." She whimpers a little, shaking her head.

"You let her touch you in order to save Helene. That's a sacrifice on your part, but still rape on hers. Rape doesn't have to be violent. It can be blackmail, drugs or threats. And..." He takes a deep breath, locking off the part of him that finds even talk about the most vanilla, romantic sex nauseating. "It's... normal, to react. She's a lilin, with thousands of years of practice of eliciting... reactions. Given time, she could probably force _me_ to react. That's just... physiology. It's not your fault."

She shakes her head again. "I know," she whispers. "But-- but-- she didn't need the oil. I would have-- do you remember, before I, before I left, I-- we talked about--" _addiction. We talked about whether I needed sex too much. Whether it was harmful. Whether I should go without for a time._ Her cheeks and eyes burn with shame.

_What is she- wait. I think I recall... right, got it_. "Hawke, you were... People do need sex, or at least something close to it. My asexuality is a deviation and one that... has side-effects. People that do have a sex drive, it's the same as any other need. You were isolated, under immense pressure, terrified and alone. You're a being of love Hawke. And that's your greatest strength but it can be a... vulnerability of sorts. You depend on it, need it more than food. Verraline was able to take advantage of that, offering poisoned food when you were starving. I think... I think any of your lovers but maybe Aveline would have fallen for that ploy- and she could be taken in another ploy, I'm sure. Everyone has a way in."

"I crave sex," she whispers. "I'd do almost anything for it. Lay with devils. Hurt someone."

"Then... then we work on that. Figure out how to reduce your cravings. Increase your... limits. Maybe figure out a way to..." He takes a deep breath, reinforcing that divide. "Have you preform self-maintenance that mitigates the cravings. I don't think it's about the sex, not really. Oh, I don't doubt you have a high sex drive but you wouldn't betray us for just a good fuck. You just... don't have limits on your love and have trouble not helping the loved one in front of you." _Like Anders._

"I don't deserve you," she whispers, softer, tears flowing freely now. "Thank you," she adds a bit louder, as if a correction.

"No debts, daughter mine," Varric agrees. "We'll get past this. Together." He squeezes her hand tightly, just shy of painfully. "Promise."

\---

There's one surefire way Helene knows to deal with feelings. More than crying, or fucking, or talking, Helene processes through their art.

Helene lies on the floor of their chambers, sketching furiously. A raven, harsh and angry, tearing into a dead rabbit. A sketch of their desk, from the angle of the floor, with sinister, creeping shadows over it, making the emptiness of the chair feel ominous.

A charcoal drawing of a little girl wearing a dress, fidgeting nervously with the hemline, a shy look on her face that reads almost fearful.

That's the drawing they're working on when Varric enters, adding a shadow of a bird on part of her dress, on the ground.

_(My daughter) Hawke is finally asleep with (annoying son) Zevran watching over her for the moment (tolerable), so now's my chance to clear the air with... hmm?_ Varric pauses, eyes heading towards the sketchbook and snapping away when he realizes the personal nature of the depiction. He knocks twice, firmly, on the side of the open door to get their attention.

Helene, deep in the shading of the shadow, takes a moment before they look up and spy Varric. The sketchbook closes immediately; they jump to their feet, giving a bow. "Beinn Varric. My apologies."

"For me interrupting you?" Varric points out gently. "Are you busy? I was hoping to talk a bit if you're up for it."

"This one always has time for Beinn Varric," they say, shifting a little. They step aside, indicating the small desk. "Please, be seated."

"Just Varric is fine," he offers yet again, smiling faintly as he takes the offered seat. "I, uh, I never thought to ask- have you ever tried real alcohol?" He holds up a small bag. "I have some kendish whiskey but I grabbed an elven wine if you wanted to stick with that.."

"This one has not. This one..." They pause. "Is it recommended? For this situation?"

Varric considers it for a moment. "Well... it's not recommended, exactly, but it's kind of... traditional, for me anyway. I, uh, I find that a slight buzz can help make it easier to talk about awkward or personal matters. You have to be careful to not get too dependant on it, but it can help. From what I've noticed, your body doesn't have the... delicateness to hardship or the like that a child's body would have so you should be able to handle is as well as anyone else that's not used to it."

Helene nods. "This one accepts. Thank you."

Varric shifts the chair over so he can easily pass a drink to a person sitting on the bed. "Alright, let's start you off with a half-finger's worth so you can see if you even like the taste," he says, opening the bag and pulling out a pair of tumblers. He pours swiftly and neatly, then offers one to Helene. "This is aged whiskey, so don't drink, sip."

Helene nods, sitting on the edge of the bed. They take the glass, sniffing it hesitantly; they tilt it, touching just a bit of it to the tip of their tongue before pulling said tongue back, to mull over that first little taste. It's highly reminiscent of a wizard testing a new potion -- and highly adorable.

Varric frowns suddenly. "You had lunch, right?" _With their size, inexperience and the potency of whiskey... an empty stomach is going to end with Helene being plastered and sick in short order._

"This one has eaten," they reassure him, eyes still on the glass. They hesitantly tip it forward a little more, taking a very small sip into their mouth, letting it sit on their tongue. They frown as they swallow, looking up to Varric. "It is meant to burn?"

"Yeah," Varric says with a small chuckle. "Some hard alcohol doesn't, but most whiskey is supposed to have a bite to it. Part of the draw for a lot of people, kind of like spicy food. This particular blend is a low-medium burn. It's fairly potent but it's well aged, which smooths it out. First impression?" he asks curiously, almost interested in people's reactions in the matter.

"It is... This one is unsure. It does have a bite to it, but there is a... the bite is a subtle bite, and there is a delicate flavor to it that draws one in even as the sting repels one. This feels akin to a spider, luring in the drinker only to strike after." A pause. "This one hesitantly approves."

Varric nods, eyes alight with interest. "So less burn would be better? I'll bring a bottle of gnomish triple blend next time. This is heavier on the vanilla and spice taste, part of what's commonly known as a woody whiskey. Gnomish usually goes for a fruitier taste. Mostly citrus but you can find berry or even apple if you look. The bite of the alcohol gets mixed in with the tang of the fruit, which fuzzes it a little. Less potent on average too."

Helene nods. "This one would be interested in furthering the experimentation." Emboldened, they take a slightly larger sip.

Varric grins a little, then digs in his bag for a second. "Here," he says, offering a small pouch. "Dried fruit and granola. To help prevent light headedness or to switch up the tastes in your mouth."

Helene takes the pouch, giving a small head bob. "Thank you."

Varric pours himself a full tumbler, then takes a few sips with a pleased sigh. "So... how are you feeling?" he asks quietly.

"This one apologizes for the outburst. This one... this one is aware that Hero zi'Hawke is... damaged. But this one..." Helene sighs. "This one is sometimes..."

"A mortal?" Varric offers softly.

Helene winces. "This one is intended to set a good example, as a Seeker. This one knows to keep this one's emotions in check."

"You slipped up. It happens. That wasn't a great time to let your emotions out, sure, but that doesn't mean you're not allowed to have them. Hence whiskey, hence talk," Varric explains, taking a sip of his own as emphasis.

Helene blinks. "Is whiskey... does this imply a specific type of talk? Is this one expected to say something in particular?"

"Well, like I said, it helps... make it easier to talk about awkward things. Emotions or... well, with Hawke, whiskey talks are often about, uh, sex." Varric coughs uncomfortably. "I, uh, I don't... do well with that but if she needs to talk about it, then I'm not about to let her down. So... whiskey. I guess... it's kind of like a combination of confessional sanctity and a promise of support. Something like that anyway."

"Confessional sanctity and support..." they echo softly. "This one... Thank you. This one is still new to... friendships." They stare down into the glass, swirling the liquid inside as they ponder. "This one was... This one is often not sure why this one is considered Clan. Or to what degree. Zevran has been very kind to this one, and this one appreciates and returns his affections, but..."

"You have trouble identifying the... degree and type of relationships you have with people," Varric realizes. "Zevran was your first real friend, isn't he? Aside from Sharran, which was... abbreviated and with someone else that had trouble with socialization." His tone isn't judgmental at all, but rather that of someone that is realizing they were be dense about something obvious.

Helene nods. "The first friendship lesson this one learned from Zevran was that... that hand holding is a way of offering support, of reminding one that they are not alone. This one was so grateful for that feeling when.. when Sherran passed."

Varric smiles faintly. "I'm not much for hand holding so... top off your glass?" he offers.

Helene blushes faintly. "This one was not asking-- this one is simply becoming more aware of their inexperience with each passing day." They do hold the glass out, however, silently accepting the offer.

"How about this for a new rule?" Varric begins thoughtfully. "If we're in private- Clan is fine if you're comfortable with it- you can just ask for my take on... relationship status? I'm not the best at emotions either, but I'm fairly good at... recognizing them at least, and knowing the rules. I just... don't.." He takes a sip. "I prefer to come at them sideways for the most part."

Helene nods. "This one would very much appreciate Beinn Varric's -- excuse me, your -- input as to the relationships any and all Clan members are seeking or offering to this one, as this one is sometimes... inept at recognizing signals."

"Glad to help," Varric says with a chuckle. "What me to help with anyone right now?"

"Yes please. Any insight is appreciated." A pause. "This one feels secure in their relationship with Honored Madam Zevvy, but the others... this one is aware that Be-- you and I are friends." They don't sound confident on that point. "And that Merrill has expressed pleasure with this one's... appearance? Mannerisms."

"Yes, we're friends," Varric confirms, then hesitates. "I... well, I have more history, time spent, with most of the others but..." He considers it for a moment. "Well... no, actually. I consider Hawke my daughter, obviously, but I.." Another sip. "Consider Merrill the same way. Zevran a bit to. Well, son I guess," he corrects himself absently. "You and Aveline are more... equal feeling, instead of me being a father figure." He pauses, taking a moment to study his emotions.

Helene actually starts a little in surprise. "Equal? This one-- Honored Beinn Varric, father of heroes, sees this one as a potential equal, as a potential colleague?" They take a deep breath, blushing faintly blue. "This one-- this one is beyond honored. This one had only hoped to be a, a student or--"

Varric's smile, now tinged with a bit of surprise, widen a little. "Well, the same to you, little divinely chosen Seeker of Alydra. You're pretty well tied with Aveline and Hawke with 'clear signs of major divine approval' after all." He pauses. "Take another sip? Maybe a few?" he suggests, then waits for them do so. "It occurs to me just now, when I was explaining this: Hawke, Merrill and Zevran are more paternal relationships. Which means that you're probably my closest friend these days." _Wynne and I were- are- good friends, but she's been devoting herself pretty heavily to Summerhill these days. I spend far more time with Q &A than with... anyone but Hawke really. Maybe Merrill._

Helene's face darkens several shades with embarrassed pleasure as they drink. At the last, their eyes widen. "Th-thi- this one is, honored, very honored!" they manage to stammer after a moment.

Varric tilts his head, expression curious. "A question about that actually- you talk a lot about being honored. Are you... happy to hear that? Pleased? I mean... friendship isn't really about honoring someone. It's not a gift given by a noble or an accolade from an academy. Honored implies that you consider the one giving you their friend as a superior, that you're unworthy of it but are given their friendship anyway."

Helene frowns slightly, looking up at him. "Of course," they say simply. "That is the implication of the word honored."

"...okay, I was hoping for a denial or at least some recognition that feeling that way is worrying," Varric says frankly. "You're not... lesser than us Helene. My friendship, Zevran's love- that shouldn't be an honor. Or, well, it can be, but I'd hope that feeling honored isn't the primary or dominant feeling you have in regards to it."

"This one is pleased," they assure him. "This one desires friendship. Beinn-- you are a good man, and a valued acquaintance. But this one is more honored that you feel similar. This one imagined that Varric is often sought after for conversation or friendship, as his value is clear and self evident. But this one... My lack of value has also been made clear. I will never be highly sought after. I am not skilled in the art of conversation. I possess none of the social grace or ease that you or Zevran have. My shell is likewise stunted. I am learned, and I possess a talent that is of some use. But when that use is done, I am forgotten. But not by you, by Zevran. And so, I am honored." They grip the glass with both hands in a close approximation of clapsed hands and bow deeply while seated.

Varric lets them finish, sipping his drink as he studies them. When Helene finishes, Varric hums thoughtfully, then, "well that's a load of low self-esteem induced bullshit." He takes another sip. "You have a lot of value, personally and professionally. You're loyal, faithful, inquisitive, earnest, kind, resilient, and brilliant. Sure, you're not the most well versed in social interaction, but you're learning and growing in that regard at a very pleasing rate. As for your shell... you've adapted well. It's a burden, I won't deny that, but you carry it with grace." He smiles faintly, then lifts his glass to them. "This one is honored to be known as the friend of the Honored Seeker Helene who was Dekesh."


	27. Aftermath: Summerhill 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke continues trying to find her way home after her terrible ordeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added content notes: Aftermath of rape/trauma, suicidal ideation.

It's another week before Zevran can join them at the Auxiliary Campus. During that week, Varric keeps his word, screening interactions with Estelle to make sure Verraline can't get to Hawke without his say-so; he also keeps close tabs on Merrill, ensuring the pair of lovers are never left alone, that Merrill keeps a respectable distance from Hawke. The last thing either of them need is a repeat of the previous encounter, after all.

When Zevran arrives, after a briefing from Varric, he's shown to Hawke's room. Hawke lays on her back in bed, staring up at cracks in the ceiling as Andy reads to her from a book of adventure stories.

"Hello, my beloved hawk," Zevran says softly in elven as he slips into the room. He nods at Andy distractedly, then moves to kneel next to the side of the bed. "I brought some tea," he offers as he sets a tray on the nightstand. _Oh my love... you look... so listless and... empty._

_Tea. Zevran!_ Hawke turns her head, something essential creeping back into her eyes as she smiles at him. "Zevran," she says warmly. She doesn't reach for him; she doesn't dare. But she smiles.

"How are you doing?" Zevran prods gently, leaning his elbows on the bed. "You look... well, to be honest you look bored," he confesses.

"A little. It's been... they're in favor of the rest cure here," she admits, speaking Elven back to her lover. She shrinks away from him just a little, just enough to make it clear she's leaving space. "So, I'm resting."

Zevran's eyes shadow for a moment, then he pulls back to reach for the tea. "It's a herbal tea, apple and... something. You take it with honey, no?" he asks to distract himself.

"Yes," she agrees, pulling herself up to sit, cross-legged, on the bed instead of lying in it. "How is Voice?"

"Voice is well. Rosalia is proving yet again how wise a hire she was. And you might be interested to know that Nox is studying accounting. Or, well, has been doing so and is now doing the books for Voice," Zevran informs her as he pours them tea. He glances at Andy, who shakes his head.. "I'm having them gone over by a contract accountant for now but if all goes well, I'll be able to scale that back to just quarterly."

"He's smart," she says quietly. "And Clan, so there's that."

Zevran cocks his head. "I had known you considered him- them- good friends, but I hadn't realized you though them that close," he says with a smile. After stirring the tea, he offers the hardwood mug to her.

"Thanks," she says automatically as she takes it. "I was... asked to give a full accounting of Clan members," she admits sheepishly. "They made the list."

"Asked by-?" Zevran asks curiously, then winces at her expression. "Ah." He glances away, making his own cup. "...ah... who else was on the list?" he asks quickly.

She closes her eyes, reciting from memory: _Astea, Maeve_. "Aveline, Anders, Wynne, you, Helene, Seli, Isabela, Varric, Estelle, Merrill, Andy, Silence, Beka, Gilly and Tomas, Nox and Lux, Claudia, and myself. Ah, that's no particular order, you understand." _And now Ver-- Tantra._

"..." Zevran stares a moment. "Huh. We should have a Clan family reunion party at some point." _In no particular order? That sounds like an order. I have no idea what kind but it sounds like an order._ Zevran grins broadly, a playful glint in this eyes. "If naught else, I would love to host it at Voice and watch so many of them, ah, melt, fluster and drool. I bet you'd like to have a... special selection for Anders, Seli, Isabela, Estelle, Merrill, Andy, Nox, Lux, Helene, and Claudia, plus us. And perhaps Rosalie. In a few years of course."

Hawke stares down at her tea, not a hint of smile on her face. "Sure," she says, her voice distant.

"Hawke?" Zevran asks in a worried voice. "Is... something amiss?"

She glances up to him. "Huh? No, I-- it's fine."

"...Hawke," Zevran prods. "That was less convincing that Gilly attempting to deny any knowledge of the tiny-hand shaped gap in dessert while her mouth is smeared with whipped cream."

She shakes her head. "Just a little distracted for a minute."

"In mid-conversation? What distracted you then?" he asks, not buying it.

Hawke takes a deep breath. She lets it out. With the air goes the tension in her muscles, and a good deal of the sparkle in her eyes: her shoulders slump, she looks back down at her teapot, and overall seems... smaller, less energized, less herself. "I... don't want to talk about sex," she says in a small, timid voice.

Zevran smiles weakly. "Then we do not need to do so," Zevran says gently. "That can wait, my love. Healing is a slow process, and you need not go faster than you are capable of going."

Hawke nods. She takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "Have you talked to Merrill yet? How are you two doing?" _Since it's not like I'm going to be involved with the both of you physically for a while._

"She is..." Zevran hesitates a touch too long. _Worried, guilty, ashamed, hurt, angry, depressed._ "In good health." He fights a wince. "She was glad to see me, and her crafting supplies. I suspect you'll be getting some gifts in the next few days."

Hawke lets out a small whimper, despite herself. She tries to cover for it by sipping her tea, letting the steam relax her just a bit. As she lowers it, she says, "I'm sure you're glad to see Helene."

"Of course," he says softly. "I am always glad to see my loves. Have... have you had the chance to really get to know them? Outside of a quest or the like?"

"Not nearly as well as I should have," she admits, gently. "They-- Well, we've worked it out. They are Clan, and have been for months. But they were... unsure."

Zevran grins a little. "They can be very... what's the new word I... ah! Adorkable. An adorable dork. Because some thirty odd languages aren't enough, so people are creating new words. Then again, I love the word and how well it describes my wise beloved so I really shouldn't judge." He sighs, the sound sappy. "I just wish that Isabela could have joined us so that I might have all my loves here but she has her own duties to catch up on."

_She left, again, almost as soon as I got back. As soon as she knew I was okay. I can't blame her; I was surprised she stayed. I still don't know what made her change her mind. But... we'll never be as close as I want to, I suppose._ She nods, just a touch. "I hope she is well."

The merikos drow studies Hawke for a moment. "She will be back, Hawke," he says softly. "She has a duty to her crew, one she put on hold for nearly six months. But if you needed her, if I needed her, she would still be here. She trusts that we have you now, that we can take care of things here for now." He offers a wan smile, reaching out absently to pat her left leg.

"I hope so." She leaves the rest unsaid, her body tensing as he touches her, fear keeping her still.

Zevran tenses a little, eyes darting up to her face. "Hawke... what's wrong?" he asks softly. "Please talk to me?"

"I'm fine," she says automatically, voice soft. "It's just... some of the things that... it's fine."

"Some of the things..." he prompts her, not letting it go. _Please Hawke, open up to me. Should I... I don't want to... poke directly._

A deep breath. "I don't-- I can't-- have sex." Her voice drops to a bare whisper. "It's best to.. avoid touching me."

Zevran frowns, unable to accept this. _After Rosemary, I backed away, tried to... desexualize you entirely. That wasn't entirely wrong, pressuring you into sex too soon would have been terrible but it was still a mistake to go that far. Not this time._ "Of course you can. Perhaps not now, not for a while, but we'll get there," he assures her, though he does lift his hand, instead resting it right next to her. "But why... why do I need to avoid casual touches? What's wrong?"

She bows her head. "You-- you can't trust me," she whispers. "I-- " _am bad. Have been brainwashed. Does it matter?_ "I'm not safe."

Zevran frowns. "Hawke... you are a very powerful combatant but in close quarters, I would be able to take you rather easily. Especially if you lacked your staff, which..." He glances around pointedly. "I am perfectly safe with you."

She frowns. _That's wrong. Is it? Why--_ Her eyes widen, and her face pales. _No. No, no no, that wasn't-- that can't be real, why can I picture it, what happened? _Varric's face, the haunted, blank look on his face, the feel of something -- of him -- inside her, the desperate need and shame. _What have I done?_ The sick, certain knowledge that she enjoyed herself.__

__She doesn't see the tea freeze in her mug, her hands shaking, her distant, terrified expression. "Hawke," Zevran snaps. Not getting a reaction after his second attempt, he takes his own tea- now chilled but still liquid- and tosses it in her face. It freezes as it touches her faintly blue skin. She screams, then, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face against them a moment later. Which is a change -- she hadn't moved in the moments before he threw the tea._ _

__"What are-" Andy darts in and lightly brushes a finger on her leg, over her sleep pants so heal her. He's not very skilled or powerful with such things but he can deal with a bit of frostbite easily enough. "Get Varric!" he orders Zevran, who bolts for the dwarf's room._ _

___Get Varric. Get Varric._ The words echo around her skull for a moment before the meaning sinks in. "No! No, No Varric, no," she whimpers, not realizing Zevran's already gone as fear twists in her gut like a knife. _I can't, I can't hurt him, I can't have a flashback, and, I can't, not like Merrill, not again, I can't--__ _

__"Hawke, I need you to look at me," Andy says softly. "You need to tell me what's wrong so I can help." _Gods, she's- she's so-_ His brain refuses for an instant but finally admits, _broken and hurting. Mortal. This is Hawke, not the Champion. I'm not sure I ever... if I was ever able to not see the hero, the miracle that saved me and my family until now.__ _

__"Not Varric, never Varric," she whispers, her body rocking back and forth as she huddles up tightly, the frozen mug forgotten on the floor._ _

___Never Varric? Her beloved Papa? That doesn't- wait, if she doesn't mean ever ever in a life sort of way- that doesn't make sense- but they were talking about sex so..._ "Hawke, it's okay. You're not... you're dressed and... well, frozen. No sex. Not with anyone. No sex," he says firmly. "It's okay."_ _

__"Stay back," she whimpers. "Stay away from--" _Papa's not here yet. Zevran left. This is-- I can-- I can protect them._ She stills, looking up -- not at Andy's face, but still at least turning toward him. "Your belt knife, give me-- this is-- I know what to do."_ _

__"What the **fuck** ," Varric's voice says from the doorway. "Hawke, _what the actual gods bedamned fuck are you thinking_?" Andy very carefully moves out of the way, letting Varric handle this._ _

__Hawke's only answer is a mewling noise. She turns her face back to her legs, the rocking picking up once more._ _

__"Andy, can you step-" Varric doesn't bother to finish as Andy slips out of the room and closes the door. "Hawke, you're having a panic attack. If I give you a mild sedative, will you take it?" _I hope she says yes, I'd prefer if she accepted it rather than having to just do it to her later if she doesn't calm down without it.__ _

__She shakes her head. "Stay-- stay back," she whimpers, huddling tightly._ _

__"I won't touch you without your permission- or if I need to stop you from being stupid- but I'm not leaving you." Varric very deliberately pulls a chair over next to the bed and takes a seat. "So it'd easier if you calm down and talk to me."_ _

___I can't, I can't be near him, I'm not safe, I can't, I can't I did-- whatever I did, I don't know, I can't, I betrayed the most central, the most fundamental ,I can't even, Papa, I can't--_ She whimpers, a mangled, almost-word cry that honestly sounds more like Merrill than Hawke: high-pitched, squealy, and incoherent. If he tries hard, he can make out something like 'you' and something like 'ape'._ _

__Varric considers this a moment. "Hawke. You've never touched me in anyway that's remotely sexual," the dwarf assures her. "Whatever you're thinking, it was a trick. An illusion."_ _

___A trick. But I-- but I fell for it ,but I tried to, I would have, I **wanted** to--_ She moans, still rocking. _I have to-- I have to-- I can't-- I can't keep around them if I'm this-- if I'm going to be--_ Snow begins to fall over the pair of them, dark clouds gathering near the ceiling._ _

__Varric glances upwards and quickly doses himself with his cold resistance infusion. "Hawke. Hawke! I'm fine. I'm safe and fine. You need to control yourself. I need you to focus on something else." He pauses a moment, then demands, "think of Astea. Recite a chant, explain Her principals, anything."_ _

___Astea. Blessed Astea would be so ashamed of me, I can't, if I try, she'll smite me, strike me down, I can't-- Something else. Something memorized. Something you can recite._ "In the event of danger to the life of an expectant mother, a tincture can be concocted that will rid the body of the fetus. To create this tincture, one must begin with alchemically purified water, into which an isolation of salts must be added in the following quantities:" She stumbles a bit over the words, but they seem to come out mostly intact, as though her voice is separate from the horrors her body is encountering._ _

__Varric stares, a little disturbed at what Hawke comes up with as something to focus on. But... better than nothing? Maybe? "Ah, alright, good, good. How about burns? How do you treat burns?" he asks, wanting to shift subjects slightly._ _

__"For the treatment of a simple burn, in which there is only redness present and no blustering of the skin, the best treatment is to let the wound heal naturally. If there is much discomfort, a salve made from sap of the desert plant, the aloe, can be applied." Seems to be working, at least._ _

__"Good, good. What about a more serious burn, like from grabbing a very hot pan?" Varric asks smoothly._ _

__"The first priority is to cool the skin. The application of cooling spells or ice ca-can.. can.." Here she shudders violently, pressing her eyes shut and her head against her knees. _I'm going to be ill._ "Can be used to bring down the external temperature," she forces out, through gritted teeth._ _

__"Take three deep breaths," Varric orders her. "You're safe. I'm safe. No-one is hurt. Take three deep breathes, then tell me how you treat a broken arm. It's okay. We're all okay."_ _

__"Nothing about this is okay!" she hisses, swallowing hard._ _

__"What was done to you wasn't okay," Varric agrees. "But you're home again, with your Clan. You can get help now. You're safe now. It will be okay."_ _

__"I'm not okay, I'm not," she whimpers, rocking further. _I have to get away. I have to--_ Her hand lifts off her knee, twitching in what is clearly the gestures for a spell._ _

__Varric doesn't hesitate- he lunges for her, intent on grabbing her hand and ruining the cast. She switches spells to something that can be done with only words, whispering frantically -- but as Varric digs his thumbnail into her hand, she gasps in pain, losing the mounting spell energy. Good thing, too -- he recognizes the words she was mouthing, and they were adding up to a spell that would have taken her from the room and out of his reach seamlessly. With his other hand, he pulls out a small needle and jabs her with it in the leg- a potent sedative, but not a soporific. "Hawke, don't you abandon me," Varric demands. "We didn't go through all of this just to lose you now!"_ _

__She whimpers, gasping for breath. "I can't, I have to, it's--"_ _

__"Marian Tethras zi'Hawke." Varric's voice cracks out as he tries to put in as much command and steel in it as possible. "Calm. The Fuck. Down."_ _

__"I _can't_ ," she whimpers, struggling to get enough air as she rocks back and forth. _I tried to rape my Papa, I enjoyed raping my Papa, I am vile, tainted, dangerous--__ _

___She... what? Lilin. Shapeshift, illusion. Drugs and Charm magic._ Shaking his head- and taking a second to be glad he'd taken his mental detection infusion prior to enter the room- Varric grips her wrist tighter. "Hawke, stop it. Focus on breathing. Nothing else matter, just deep breaths. I need you to calm down. Deep breaths. In. Hold. Out. Again. In. Hold. Out."_ _

__She whimpers, shaking her head again. _I can't, I can't let myself hurt anyone, I can't, I have to... I have to do it, I have to kill myself, I have to..._ Her thoughts are noticeably slowing, the frantic hummingbird heart in her chest calming as the drug kicks in. The other upside of this is that she manages to finish some of her mental sentences. _I have to do it, I deserve to die for this, I can't let anyone hurt my Clan.__ _

__"You killing yourself would hurt us more than anything else," Varric hisses at her. "If you want to pay, to atone for- for Verraline's actions, then you have to live. Killing yourself is nothing but running away. You stay, you fight for us, you get better and you live. Do you understand me, Marian Hawke? You are not allowed to run away from this."_ _

___I can't run away. I can't lose myself again. I can't._ She can see Verraline's face, hear the fear in the lilin's voice. _I have to get hold of myself._ Finally, she takes a deep breath._ _

__"Good. Good. Now. How do you treat a broken arm. Simple fracture." Varric's voice is soft now, soothing._ _

__"You--" she begins, swallowing hard as she searches for the information. "The-- the break, if the break is clean you need to..." Another deep breath. "Set the bone."_ _

__"Good. And after the bone is set?" Varric pushes. _Thank the gods, she's finally calming down. The tincture must be setting in._ "What do you do then?"_ _

__She fumbles her way through an explanation, hesitant and slow. He can hear her brain keep slipping, keep skipping back to the previous train of thought, but she forces herself to focus, at times picturing the break intently, as though trying to convince herself she's really doing this and not just talking about it. By the time the drug has finished kicking in, her breath is slower, more even, and her heartbeat, while still elevated, is no longer indicative of a panic state. "When the cast is removed, a sling should be employed to continue to immobilize the healing bone," she concludes, with a deep breath._ _

__"That's my girl," Varric says warmly, pointedly reaching over to take her hand. "How are you feeling now? More centered? Do you need more sedative? I can give you a dose orally instead of stabbing you this time."_ _

__She pulls her hand back, but she nods. "I'm okay."_ _

__Varric frowns, glancing down at their hands. "Alright. Good. We do need to talk about what just happened though."_ _

__She swallows, but she nods, a tiny, hesitant nod._ _

__"Good on, daughter mine." Varric gets back into his chair, studying her. "Okay. You wanna start with what brought this on in the first place?"_ _

__She shake her head. _I can't tell Papa about this. Whatever it was. I can't... this is too much. He'd be ashamed.__ _

__"Hawke, you can tell me anything. I might not agree with your opinion or actions, but that doesn't mean I'd be ashamed of you. I mean, I'm clearly not sold on Verraline but... we worked that out, right?"" He smiles gamely at her. "We can figure it out together, as a family. As Clan."_ _

___'Do you need more of me?'_ She shudders violently, closing her eyes. _Don't think about it. Don't think about it. You can't run away. You can't lose yourself again.__ _

__"Hey, look at me. Focus on now, on me. We can do this. We can. I'll make it work, alright? Just stay with me," Varric coaxes her. "I need you to talk to me. Please Hawke, for me."_ _

__Hawke takes a deep breath, dragging her thoughts toward her Papa. "Sorry," she whispers. _Sorry I'm not strong enough. Sorry I keep running away. Sorry I couldn't hold out, couldn't be the hero he thinks I am.__ _

__"You don't need to apologize Hawke. You're still trying. You might stumble a little, but that's okay. Just need a little help, which is what Clan is for." _Whatever it takes, daughter mine. Whatever (anything) it takes. Even talking with a blighted (Clan?) devil. Even making a bargain (Astea forgive me... which previous observations indicate She will, which is comforting) with one.__ _

__She nods, swallowing back a whimper. "Right. Okay. That's what-- that's what clan is for." _Just trust Papa. Let Papa take care of it. Don't think about it, trust Papa instead. Whatever (else) he wants to know.__ _

___Oh Hawke (my poor daughter)._ The dwarf shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Okay. Okay. Start from the beginning. What were you talking about before this all happened?"_ _

__"He-- I--" She takes a deep breath. "Zevran wanted to touch me. I didn't want to be touched. He was. Concerned."_ _

__"Of course he is. He loves you. And you're... touch is important. Even I need, crave being touched. Not a lot by any means, but... But you? You're a being of love, and part of the way, a big part of the way you express that is with touch. So of course he's going to be worried you don't want to be touched anymore," Varric points out gently._ _

__She swallows, nods. "I-- He-- He asked why, what... I hinted at what I was afraid of." _That I might rape him. That I might hurt him trying to take what I want._ "He said I can't hurt him without my staff and I--" _I remembered what I did. What I wanted to do. I-- no, don't think about it.__ _

__"He's right you know. Hand to hand, Zevran is the deadliest person in our Clan. Hells, without gear, he could probably take any two of us, aside from maybe Wynne if she gets to keep Rhys," Varric notes. "But that's not what's bothering you, not really, is it?"_ _

__She shakes her head. _I didn't overpower Papa, I-- no, don't think about it. Don't remember. Let it go, hide it, get it away. Whatever it was, it's too much, too painful. You forgot for a reason.__ _

__"Hawke... do you think Zevran loves you? Wants you to be happy and healthy?" Varric gives her a chance to nod for each question, then finishes with, "then why in all of Aldis do you think he would let you darken your soul that way? If he wanted you to stop and the indoctrination you suffered kicked in, he'd stop you. With force if need be." A beat. "So would I."_ _

__"He didn't know," she whispers, closing her eyes in shame. "I asked for-- a favor, and, I said I needed it, and he... he..." She swallows again. "I couldn't stop myself, I knew it was wrong, but it felt so right, I needed it so much-- and, and when I got back, with Merrill..."_ _

__"Except that neither of us, the real us, are brain-dead. I mean, if you asked for sex, Zevran would say yes but that's because he'd _want_ sex. In most cases anyway, clearly." Varric grimances. "If you ever asked me, I'd either scold you for the very tasteless joke or knock you the hell out because you're clearly out of your damn mind for whatever reason."_ _

__"You-- you would?" Her voice is soft, but there's a bit of surprise and wonder in it. She can picture those soulless, wounded eyes-- but she also recalls his face a moment ago, shouting at her, cursing at her, jabbing her with a syringe. _Papa wouldn't let me hurt him. He really wouldn't._ "You would."_ _

__"Hawke... I love you. I truly, honestly and deeply love you. But... I can't do that. I've tried before with... someone." Varric has to swallow a few times. _I wanted to. I tried. If you honestly needed it for some reason (for Clan), I'd... I might try. I don't know (couldn't). But I do know I couldn't do it, no matter what I wanted (you happy). It's just not something (disgusting) I'm capable of doing. And right now I'm glad of that._ "I love you but I'd refuse you that, I promise."_ _

__Her shoulders slump with relief. _He would refuse me. Thank Astea, thank Andraste, thank every holy pavitra in Astea's heavens, he wouldn't let me abuse him. He wouldn't let me hurt him like that._ She takes another deep breath, repeating this to herself. _He wouldn't do it. Not even for me. He wouldn't let me force him the way I let Rosemary-- he wouldn't.__ _

__"So would Zevran," he reminds her. "He want sex, especially with you, but if he had a reason not to, he'd say no. Consent means too much to him for him to let that happen, even for you." Varric pauses, then continues with careful deliberation. "He stopped you from... going any further with Merrill, didn't he? As soon as he woke and saw it, he stopped you."_ _

__She nods, but there's a whimper to it. _Merrill. Merrill wouldn't stop me, would let me hurt her, abuse her, break her. I can't be-- I can't be alone with Merrill. Papa was right.__ _

__"Merrill... Merrill doesn't see how it's... dangerous. Or unhealthy for you right now to be... doing anything like that. After you... heal from this... well, talk with Seli and Zevran, that's not something I can speak on with any real authority." Varric shrugs a little. "She's fine, you know. She... guilty that she kissed you and triggered what came after. Worried and angry at herself. But she's not hurt and not upset." _At you anyway, she's more than a little pissed (kind of amusing) with me cutting off access to (protecting) you but tough (you come first).__ _

___Something's-- I didn't say Merrill's name aloud,_ she realizes, all at once. She clings to that, not wanting to dwell on Merrill. _Papa's in my head again._ A deep breath. _If I have to, I'll split with her. I won't let that happen to her again. Never again. She deserves better. She deserves wonderful things: Zevran, and Aveline, and Papa. Not this. Not me.__ _

__"I'm not going to apologize for it," Varric says softly. "If this is what it takes to be sure I can help you, then so be it. Also, get off your martyrdom already. Stop trying to toss yourself on the fire and help us put it out instead."_ _

___I tried to **rape** my **wife**!_ The fury that courses through her burns her despair and fear clean away. This, this is unforgivable: the idea that anyone, anyone, would do that to Merrill fills her with rage so large she can't feel anything else. The snow evaporates; the frozen tea melts. There's no place for ice in this anger._ _

__"Then **atone**! Make yourself get better! Make it up to her, to us! To yourself!" Varric shouts back to her thoughts. "If what you did was bad, then instead of running away, make it better. Make sure you're a person that won't do it again. Make sure Merrill is safe. That we're all safe. _Including you_."_ _

__Hawke throws back her head, letting out a primal cry of rage and pain. The anger dies out as she does; she slumps back against the bed, tears dripping down her cheeks in silence as she takes deep, ragged gasps. _I can't. I really am that person, the one who would hurt her. I always have been, deep down. Now I just know it, know how little it would take to push me to hurt her._ Her mental tone is defeated, resigned._ _

__"Hawke... do you really think that poorly of us?" Varric asks quietly._ _

__"Of you? Never," she says quietly. _Of myself? Always. I know who I am, under all the talk of heroes.__ _

__"Then why do you think we're all stupid. Gullible? Blind? Willing or able to love the wretch you cast yourself as?" Varric demands. "We love you. Not the Champion of Coalside. Not The Chosen of Astea. All that is just a part of you, just... a result of who you are. So I'd take it as a kindness if you stopped insulting my loved one."_ _

___You've never known the real me. I'm a good liar, when it matters. Good at being someone you want me to be._ She takes a deep breath, pushing back the memories: Varric, back before he was really her Papa, insisting that while he might not know how she is around her family, that he didn't see her being a firebrand, being someone to start fights. _Even back then, before I got real good at lying, I was good at hiding the real me.__ _

__"But you don't," Varric says simply. "You never _start_ fights, not really. You sure as shit don't hold back from escalating things or being the one that steps up. But that's just nitpicking. Sure, I may not have known every facet of you in the first couple of months I knew you. Probably don't know every little bit of you now. But I know the core of you. Details are great, sure, but... I know the shape of your soul, the tone of it, if not every hue."_ _

___The shape of my soul..._ She takes a deep breath, pushing her fears away. _Yes. Papa knows me. Knows who I am. I'm not-- I'm not who Mother thought I was. I'm not who I thought I was, when I lived with Mother. I'm not this person living in hell made me, not really, not all the time. I am weaker than most people believe, but Papa knows me. He knows how weak I am... and how weak I'm not.__ _

__"Right." Varric smiles faintly. "You're not _weak_ , but you do have _weaknesses_." His smile turns a touch wry. "As Q&A would say, precision is important in communication. We've talked about that before- no-one is perfect. Trick is to make sure you know what your weaknesses are and work to either safeguard them or to get people you can trust to cover that vulnerability. Or both, if you can arrange it."_ _

___So what are..._ She takes a deep breath, trying to quell her fears. "What are my weaknesses?" It helps, a little, to speak the words out loud, though fear twists her gut a moment later._ _

__"Low self-esteem," Varric says instantly. "That's your biggest, the one that most of the others grow from. Your need for love, which in turn leads to your willingness to ignore cost to yourself, comes from that. Your penchant to risk yourself without thought for what it would cost those who care for you comes from that. So does your self-loathing and habit of dwelling over what most people would think are minor mistakes or failures. And your... I suppose sex addiction is close enough, comes from that. Personally, I'd say you're a bit impulsive but that's probably my own bias. You've a temper, though you've done good work on that one already." He bobs his head back and forth, thinking._ _

___Low self-esteem. I don't think it's low, I think it's realistic, but then, I would. Trust Papa on that one. Need for love, willingness to ignore the cost; the former makes me Astean, the latter makes me a hero. Not necessarily weaknesses. Self-loathing, yes, alright. It can be... I can probably be exploited to hurt my Clan. If I thought I was a danger (like I am) I would take myself out of the picture (like I plan to) (don't) which leaves them open to attack. Habit of dwelling -- only in the midnight hours, only when the imp gets to me. Sex addiction._ _ _

___Sex addiction._ _ _

__She stifles another whimper. _Impulsive, focus on impulsive. Yes, I can be impulsive. I need to remember to plan more. Temper, he's right, I've worked a lot on that one. I would say my Battle Fatigue is also a weakness, a way I can be exploited to hurt people I love, to do things I wouldn't.__ _

__"That's a good one, yes. If someone can trigger a flashback or panic attack at the right time, that could be used against you. Us. And your need for love isn't Astean. A desire for love, sure. A conviction that love should exist, that it's worth invoking or kindling, whatever, sure. But you're... desperate for it, like you're afraid that the loves you already have might vanish or turn out to have been fake." Varric gives her a steady look. "I'll be honest, that hurts. That despite everything, you still doubt us. That you... it's not that you want more love, that you still seek it out. It's that if feels like you're still... that you still think you're so worthless that we're going leave you at the first sign of a flaw, so you have to constantly find more loved ones for when we abandon you."_ _

___But I **am** worthless_. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. _Which is the point, I gather. This is why mind-reading is unfair. My instinctive reaction gets as much weight as my words. I wouldn't say that out loud. What would be the point? He'd disagree and we'd argue, or he'd give me that hurt look and say 'Still?' or something like that and I'd just feel like I kicked a puppy. It's not that I think they'll leave at the first sign of a flaw, it's that I put everyone through so much, over and over, and they never even complain, not a peep, and that can't be how they really feel, and someday how they feel will finally come out and it'll be over._ Another deep breath._ _

__What she chooses to say aloud is, "Do you remember when we first... when I said, I'm glad you like me, because you could destroy me?" _I meant it. I was worried he would use my secrets against me. But I'm not anymore. If things go badly, if we split up, he won't burn me. It won't matter, of course, I'd probably not survive losing my Clan anyway, but he's not that kind of vindictive.__ _

__"Would... shit, mind reading doesn't work on me. Truthing, yes, but mind reading... I think too quickly and I've trained myself to switch languages and grammar structures constantly," Varric explains with a slight frown. "But would it help to try that with the others that are willing? And I'd be willing to go under Truthing for you whenever you wanted," he adds awkwardly, studying his hands for a moment._ _

__She shakes her head. _Having it be more even just means I know things I don't want to know, too._ She can't help it -- she blushes faintly, thinking of the sorts of unkind things she can think in a bad moment when she's ill-tempered and picturing Varric thinking them about her. _Probably a mite stronger than, 'daft girl'.__ _

__"I promise I've never... I've never done this before with you, before the Wager," Varric offers with a hopeful but wan smile. He sighs a little. "I wouldn't do it if it was for... well. I..." He nods firmly after a slight pause. "I give you my word as a member of Clan Tethras- as your Papa- that I will not betray you in any way with what I learn from this, may my soul be reft and scattered should I be forsworn."_ _

__She shudders, remembering Dae's words to her. "Accepted," she says briskly. _Let's not dwell on that. He won't break his word, regardless. Papa has a unique sense of honor, but his word's as good as stone when he does give it.__ _

__Varric's smile turns proud and a little... shy? Is he a little embarrassed by that bit of praise. "Right. Well. Moving on." He pauses a moment to figure out what comes next. "Umm. So. We need to work on sex- work on your need for, both... uh, working on reducing or controlling your craving for it to help protect you and getting you comfortable having it again. Because that's part of you and you shouldn't lose it."_ _

__Hawke bites her lip, looking at her lap. _Papa does fine_ , she thinks stubbornly. _('Do you need more of me?')(no, it's not real).__ _

__"I... it's different Hawke, and you know it. That's like expecting Merrill to be able to share my diet. She might be able to survive on my very meat and starch heavy diet for a while, but it would make her sick and very unhappy," Varric chides her._ _

__"I was going to take a break anyway. It's... I have to get used to not having it. I have to kick the addiction. Then maybe we talk about reintroducing it."_ _

__"...alright, that's fair. Putting a hold on sex is... probably a good idea, though we should double check with Seli and maybe Anders. But cutting yourself off from all _touch_ is very unhealthy," Varric says firmly._ _

___I managed for months._ "Not... _all_ touch. But Zevran is... He has a way about him."_ _

__Varric stares at her. "You won't even let me touch you. And are you honestly going to look me in the eye and say you think that _Zevran_ would pressure you?"_ _

___He wouldn't pressure me. But I'd be likely to jump him if he ran his fingernail over my hand in just that way._ She shudders a little, trying to fight back the sick knowledge that she'd done that to Merrill over a kiss -- and the quiet yearning in her gut to be touched by one of her lovers, to be held and petted and known._ _

__"What if I was always around?" Varric suggests softly. "You've always been good about not... getting out of hand around me. And maybe start with increasing touch with me. Then Andy and Seli, then Aveline when she gets here."_ _

___That's an awful lot to ask, you need rest too,_ she reasons. _Oh but I guess if I were alone when he's not around, and then when people visit he is around, it's less intrusive.__ _

__"Well, I don't actually need to sleep, I have a spell for that," Varric notes. "And... well, actually, this takes into another... topic we need to discuss. Well, probably fight about to be honest."_ _

___About you needing sleep?_ "It does?"_ _

__"No, the latter part, about you being alone." He takes a deep breath. "You tried to escape," he says bluntly. "That's not acceptable."_ _

___Esca--_ Mid-thought, understanding hits, and she looks at her lap in shame. _Oh. I did. I tried to Dimension Door away so I could kill myself._ Shame chokes off her thoughts, and her eyes burn with unshed tears._ _

__Varric stills a moment, swallowing. Or well, trying to. It takes him three tries before it works. "Hawke... Yes. That. About that... I... that can't happen again. In anyway."_ _

___It will. No, maybe things will be alright, maybe I won't hurt them, maybe I'm not as damaged as all that, but I know it's not true, I know I'll find some new horror and have to do it to save my Clan._ She sighs. "I'm sorry, Varric."_ _

__"Hawke, this isn't a negotiation," the dwarf says softly, eyes blank. "You won't try that again. Full stop."_ _

___He's right. It can't be a negotiation. I'm not making promises I can't keep._ She looks at her lap, silent._ _

__"Let me rephrase. I'm sure you're aware of a spell curse known as geas?"_ _

__Now she looks up at him, fear twisting inside her. "You wouldn't." _He can't.__ _

__"Of course I would," Varric says simply. _For you, for my daughter? Of course I would. Without hesitation and with very little guilt to be honest.__ _

__"Varric, you can't." _What if I'd been under geas at Momento Mori?__ _

__Varric shrugs a little. "Marian Tethras zi'Hawke must spend the next year working to preserve her life to the best of her abilities.' You can still help, still do good, but no, you won't be able to martyr yourself for a bit. Tough shit, the gods can find another whipping girl for a while."_ _

___Tough shit? You can't just say 'tough shit' to the gods!_ She tries to take a deep breath, but only fills her lungs halfway before she lets out a whimper. Her hands open and close a few times as she tries to get her fear under control._ _

__"Sure I can. They owe you," Varric says firmly. "Twice over now. And if I have to call them out for it, then I'm not above nor against doing so."_ _

___You can't just-- you can't just taunt the gods like that, you're going to get killed!_ She closes her eyes, breathing rapidly through her nose. _He's going to get killed and it's my fault.__ _

__Varric snorts. "The gods- the Bright gods anyway- aren't that sort. Mileen is fair, Astea loves and Vangal has a strong sense of honor. It's not like I'm going to attack them or even insult them. I'd be polite and so forth. It's not like a year is all that long for the likes of eternals."_ _

___Please, you can't-- you can't do this to me, you can't trap me like this, you can't keep me, I--_ Less and less of her brain is rational the more she struggles to get enough air. It feels as though the walls are closing in, as though she's unable to escape -- as though she's trapped in a tiny room for months on end._ _

__"Hawke! Hawke! You're fine! You can breath, there's plenty of air! I need- Hawke, how do you treat someone having a panic attack?" Varric asks quickly, hands reading another dose of sedative, this kind a touch stronger._ _

___You-- Panic attack, you, you do, something, there's something you do, it's-- I can't breathe, I'm going to die in this pox-rotted cell, I'm never going to escape, never, I'm going to watch everyone suffer and then die slowly and painfully--_ "P-p-panic at-attacks are--" _I can't remember what's wrong with me why can't I remember?!__ _

__"You take three deep breaths. Nice and slow. Hold the air in for a little bit each time. Try to focus on something else." Varric slowly reaches out to, not take her hand, but slip his inside her grip. "Can you talk three breaths for me, daughter mine? Please?"_ _

___Can I - I'm having a panic attack, this is a panic attack, why, I need to-- there's not enough air, can't he see that, breathing deeply won't help--_ _ _

__A sudden flash of memory: Silence ramming her head into Hawke's gut, forcing her to pay attention. The memory of it jars her, slipping her just a little out of her rut. _Papa wants me to take a deep breath._ She takes one: far too rapid, but deep. She lets it out immediately, still too fast, so it sounds like a ragged, wheezing gasp, but she's breathing more deeply now, and the second one is a little slower._ _

__"Good, good," Varric says, pleased. "Deep breaths, that's the vein. Couple more please. In and out." He pauses a moment, then adds, "give me three, nice breathes, deep and long, and we can go for a bit of a walk with Silence. That sounds good?"_ _

___No. But a nap._ She can picture how she slept most days Varreline wasn't there: curled up around Silence, knowing the dog would growl if anything so much as changed in the room, knowing she would be protected, that the canine would literally fight to the death for her. She takes another deep breath._ _

__"That sounds good too. Silence can cuddle with you and I'll stand watch. You'll be safe, I swear it," Varric soothes her, lightly twitching his fingers inside her grip._ _

___Safe. I'm safe. I have Clan around me, I'm safe._ Gently, with just a twitch of her fingers, she curls her hand around his._ _

__\---_ _

__An hour later, Varric heads to the cafeteria to get some... _what time of day is it? Doesn't matter._ he wonders absently, most of his thoughts on the suddenly small looking merikos elf wrapped around a protective mabari. Mind still preoccupied, he heads for the shortest line, not wanting to waste any more time away from Hawke than is needed to eat and shower. Which is why, minutes later, Varric is forcing himself to eat at least half of the plant clippings and herb bread he'd gotten from the elven style offerings he picked up without thought. Even that doesn't really jar him out of his worries and he's soon heading for his room to get a shower and change, not even noticing the concerned gaze that follows him._ _

__Half an hour later, just as he's stepping out of the shower, there's a pair of small, sharp raps on his door. When he pulls on enough clothing to answer it, Helene is standing in his doorway, holding a small bottle of whiskey. "There is no cause for alarm. May this one enter?"_ _

__Varric smiles faintly. "I think you can probably drop that, given that Hawke's back," he says, stepping back and waving them in. _Was comforting (necessary) at the time though, given that you're our scryer and thus best source (usually me, prefer being in control of the flow, felt weird) of intel._ "Need to talk about something?" he asks, having noted the bottle with a faint smile._ _

__Helene shakes their head. "Hawke is... physically present, yes," they say, in a neutral tone. "This one thought Beinn Varric might appreciate company."_ _

__Varric's smile falters a bit. _Physically present... yeah, that's... (damningly) accurate._ "...thanks," he murmurs, pulling out his desk chair for Helene. "And again, it's just Varric." A pause and he glances at them pointedly. "It's... improper to use a title like that between friends."_ _

__Helene flinches a bit. "This one has been told. Thi-- I was simply... a little nervous how my presence would be received."_ _

__That gets a soft look from the dwarf. "Hey, have a seat, I'll get some glasses. I wasn't upset with you about, just.. a bit of teasing as a reminder." He moves off to the said glasses, asking, "and why were you worried about your reception?"_ _

__They sit, placing the bottle on the desk as they do. "This one has not... I know that I am not the best at comfort but I hoped... I am not certain you... have someone to talk to." They fidget, looking down at their hands nervously._ _

__Varric slows in his movements. "...worthy indeed," he murmurs, just loud enough for Helene to hear. He sets the glasses on the desk and takes a deep breath. "You're wrong though. About not having someone to talk to," he clarifies, eyes flicking to the bottle._ _

__"Oh," they say, startled. "Shall-- shall I go, then?"_ _

__Varric snickers a little as he pours them both a glass. "You, Helene."_ _

__The startled look faces into a real smile. "Oh," they say quietly, blushing faintly. "Well. I am glad to be of service." That said, they pick up their glass, lifting it in a silent salute before taking a small sip._ _

__Taking a sip of his own, Varric sits on the edge of his bed. "So... shoot," he offers, gesturing at them._ _

__Helene nods. "Is... everything alright?" They ask quietly, then wince. "No-- everything is not alright. I know that. It's all wrong, and you can't fix it, not really. But you can... if you have someone to talk to, it can be nice to talk about it. So, I am here. You are not alone."_ _

__"Holding hands of glass," Varric says fondly, then wrinkles his nose. _That was a pretty sloppy mash-up, old man._ "I... I'm... dealing. I don't like not having a... good plan in place. Working with limited information to try and fix a problem I can't see, can't study- oh and the problem is changing and occasionally fighting back. Plus the 'problem' is my own blessed daughter so half my tricks can't work and half of what's left tastes like ash and betrayal." He takes a deep breath, then drains the entire generous four fingers of amber fluid still in his glass all in one go._ _

__"This one, too, dislikes not having enough information. Dislikes having no plan, having to pray for a miracle and do the best they can." Their tone is soft, but not quite pitying._ _

___Woah. Salad (crap) is not nearly good enough to buffer an honest dwarf (or me) against that much whiskey in one go._ "Yeah. I don't... She needs... help. She needs to be healed, to be forced to seek better modes of thought, coping methods, but she's afraid and hurting and making her do what she needs to do is..." He takes a deep breath, glancing at the bottle a touch longingly._ _

__"Hard?" Helene asks, taking another sip._ _

__"Sure," he says with a harsh laugh. "We'll go with 'hard.' It's not _wrong_ anyway."_ _

__"It's not impossible, Varric," says Helene kindly. "Difficult, but not impossible. Hope remains."_ _

__Varric shakes his head. "No, it's not... it's not the difficulty exactly. It's... it's the cost. Some of the things she needs, she doesn't want. Is afraid of. But... they have to be done, even if she hates...it."_ _

__Helene blinks. "Ah. You are concerned about the ethics of the situation."_ _

__Varric shakes his head. "Not... exactly. I'm not a good man. Not really. I love my daughter. My daughter is a good woman. It's her regard I worry about the most. Then the reactions of the rest of our Clan. Beyond that..." The dwarf shrugs a little._ _

__Helene gives a slow nod. "You are a good man, I think. Not a hero. But good. You care for your family, your Clan. It is only natural to be more concerned with their regard than the regard of others."_ _

__Varric sneers a little. "Hero," he says darkly. "More a curse than anything else."_ _

__Helene winces. "Is it?"_ _

__"Hardship, loss, and death. That's all being a hero gets you," Varric says bitterly._ _

__"You're wrong," they say quietly. "Sometimes it brings those things. But sometimes it brings true friendship, peace, love, life, hope."_ _

__"No, being a good person, loving and helping people causes that stuff. Being a hero just hurts." Varric shakes his head. "No, the good in Hawke's life comes from her, not from being a hero."_ _

__"Is this one not good?" asks Helene softly._ _

__"Sure?" Varric agrees, then sighs as. "Being good isn't enough," he allows. "Sometimes life just shits on you anyway. If the game is rigged, then sometimes skill and luck aren't enough. Doesn't mean you're any less..." He rolls his eyes, but says it anyway. "Worthy."_ _

__Helene shakes their head. "This one is good. And this one is in Hawke's life. This one only came into Hawke's life because Hawke is a hero. Therefore, there is some good to be gained by being a hero."_ _

__"Nah. You might have _met_ us because of the prophecy thing, but you're _Clan_ because you're a good person, because something about you drew Zevran in, and, from that, the rest of us."_ _

__"But my introduction to the group of you was a direct result of Hawke's heroics." Helene gives a stubborn frown._ _

__"Who's to say we wouldn't have run into each other some other way?" Varric replies. "Sure, this way worked out in that regard but the costs... Look, I'm glad we know each other. I don't wish it otherwise. But at the same time... if... if Hawke could have avoided Mori, could have been spared the Gem and this Wager.... I could live with her having never met me. It would be worth having an empty life, if hers was less painful. That would be enough," he finishes in a whisper, eyes closed._ _

__"I know how you feel," they say softly. "But it's not true, Varric. Nobody would want that. Not Hawke, not you, not me."_ _

__"I would," Varric says firmly. "If I was offered that deal, I'd have taken it, with remorse, yes, but without regret." He rubs his face. "Impossible of course. Even the gods can't remake the past. I... I get the need for heroes. I just... I just wish someone else could do it instead of mine."_ _

__"If you had been offered that deal, and taken it, all of us would be the poorer off. Everything happens for a reason." Helene sighs. "Even if that reason is painful and ugly and awful. It's all part of a plan."_ _

__"Shitty plan," Varric grumbles. _I could (easily) do better. Hells, most of the time, I figure Hawke (Gilly) could do better.__ _

__"You and I can't see all the alternatives. Perhaps this was the best option available. Or perhaps we were meant to do better and failed somehow."_ _

__"If this is the best possible option, then someone royally botched something a ways back," Varric says dryly. "Anyway. I... thanks for listening to me..." He searches a moment. "Vent for a bit."_ _

__Helene nods. "I am glad to do it. When... when Sharran died, I needed someone to do the same for me. I would like to be there for others now."_ _

__"See. Good," Varric says gently. "Better than me." His eyes slide to the bottle again, then he shakes his head slightly. _No, that's (wrong) not wise right now. Already had more than you should, old man, especially on (grass) elf food. Talking was (honestly) enough (Huh)._ "How are you holding up by the way?"_ _

__Helene shakes their head. "This one does this one's best to... to chase away guilt with Astea's words. But the nightmares have returned. He-- Hawke has been through so much, came back... lesser, at least for the moment. This one fears what would happen if one came for vengeance, if this one were... taken again." The last couple words are a whisper, but they force them out anyway._ _

__Varric hesitates a moment, then rather awkwardly reaches out to pat Helene on the shoulder. "If you were taken, we'd find you. You're Clan, we don't give up on Clan. Not ever. Tenny can't come after us again, even through a catspaw. Not as long as we're on Nyrian lands."_ _

__Helene nods. "This one is not as strong as Hawke. This one would not likely be..." They shake their head, changing their mind: "This one would hold out as long as this one could, knowing that Varric was on the way."_ _

__"I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for," Varric disagrees. "Your faith in Alydra, your love for Zevran... that's more protection, more motivation than I think you realize. You'd suffer. Maybe you'd break. Everone does, eventually. But that doesn't mean you're weak."_ _

__Helene nods. "This one would never, ever, ever betray Alydra. This one cannot. There is no choice for this one, no self without Alydra, no purpose, no life. But short of that, this one is not very strong at all. This one has a number of quite exploitable weaknesses."_ _

__"You mean like how I'd salt the world or rend my soul to save my daughter? How I'd kill an innocent to spare any of the lot of you grief? My inability to discuss or even admit to emotions? My need for control? Everyone has flaws or qualities that can be used by others," Varric replies with a shrug. "I'd wager your love for Zevran against months of pain any day." A pause. "Well, in theory of course. I'd prefer you not go through that obviously."_ _

__Helene nods. "You stood up to temptation very well," they point out, their tone neutral. "You would only need half an hour or so at most to destroy this one utterly, I think. A devil, probably longer, as there wouldn't be an element of betrayal involved, and they would have to discover the weaknesses, but it could be done."_ _

__Varric blinks a few times. "Uh... not sure if that's a compliment to me, or an insult to either or both of us," he muses. "And you didn't take the temptation either- I at least knew it was a devil's deal."_ _

__"The devil did not attack this one's weaknesses," they admit, "And this one almost accepted the deal. This one was talked out of it by Zevran."_ _

__"Sure, but the deal you were offered was pretty benign. And the payoff was something that would not only help get Hawke back, but was also kind of a full blown divine quest," Varric points out. "Under any other circumstances, that'd be an obvious deal."_ _

__Helene nods. "This one will accept that this one was subject to only limited trials. But this one..." They take another, longer sip of the whiskey. "When this one was last exposed to a sceleratis, this one... This one was severely damaged. And the demon made no serious effort to destroy this one."_ _

__"Serious is kind of relative. It might not have focused on you at first, but it didn't exactly hold back when it came to a fight," Varric points out. "And... yeah, it hurt you but you've pulled yourself together. That means more, I think. Everyone gets hurt. It's what you do after that's important."_ _

__Helene nods. "This one hopes to never find out."_ _

__"Well, yes, I'd very happily go the rest of my life without having any of us interact with any sceleratii ever," Varric says with a laugh. _And that includes (ugh) Verraline, though I can... mostly tolerate her. Maybe. We'll see how she reacts after I (demand some answers) ask my questions about the more... (breaking) problematic events mentioned in (asshat's) Tenny's little farewell gift.__ _

__Helene smiles. "Your words to Alydra's writings," they wish._ _

__Varric chuckles. "Hear hear." He takes a deep breath, then gets to his feet. "Thanks, Helene."_ _

__Helene puts down the glass, standing as well. "Of course. Please, if you need to talk later, seek me out." They bow, a deep, respectful bow._ _

__"Back at you, Q &A, back at you," Varric replies with a smile. Taking a moment to center himself, he heads for the door. "I wanna get back before she wakes up. Thanks again for the whiskey. Not a bad pick by the way."_ _

__They blush faintly. "Thank you."_ _


	28. Aftermath: Summerhill 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke continues trying to find her way home after her terrible ordeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added content notes: Aftermath of rape/trauma, suicidal ideation.

The next few days are very touch and go. Seemingly little things set Hawke off; several times she bursts into tears out of nowhere, freezes things, or (in one memorable occasion), tries to flee the room on foot.

Of course, she _has_ to flee on foot. When Anders is informed of her little Dimension Door stunt, he takes her spellbook away so she can't prepare any more spells. She fights him on this, of course, but he's had to learn to be firm yet gentle in his time at Summerhill, and he calls in her healer for backup. They remind her that they'd agreed to leave the door unlocked, but she had to behave better if she wanted her spellbook back.

She tries. But it doesn't hold very long.

Still, when Varric shows up after breakfast a few days later bearing a letter from Robijin Enclave, she's doing a bit better. She's taken a potion to help her keep her calm, though it's a mild alchemical tincture rather than a magical potion, so she's capable of overpowering it if she has a bad episode. Today, she's curled up against Silence, her back to the dog's side, reading a textbook on magical curative agents to refresh her memory as she waits.

"How goes the day, daughter mine?" Varric asks cheerfully, moving over to give Silence a chance to sniff his hand carefully. It had taken a few days for Verraline to work herself up to doing what Varric had demanded of her, but she'd finally come through. _Not sure how this is going to go over (three sedatives of varying strength)... but she needs to hear this. Bright gods, she (we) needs this. I just hope it doesn't break her heart, the daft girl._

"Better, now you're here." She closes the book, smiling up at him. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

Varric considers her question for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, actually that sounds pretty good. We can head up to the pond so Silence can remind the geese whose land this is," he replies. The mabari grunts softly, shifting so her good eye is watching Varric for a few seconds.

"It's fine," Hawke says softly to Silence. "That's Papa. You remember Papa." She's learned not to dismiss small complaints or oddness from the dog, not anymore. Not after the hells.

"I think she's chiding me for sassing her," the dwarf says with amusement, getting another grunt of Silence. "...did she get smarter or something?" Silence looks at him for another moment, then shifts so she can lick Hawke's cheek. "Random thought, but we're sure that magi can't make familiar bonds, right?"

"Silence is best girl," she says quietly. "Mabari are said to bond to a person, one person for life, and be their constant companion. Of course my Mabari is a little bit poly, just like me, but Silence has definitely chosen me during our ordeal." She takes a deep, ragged breath. "And I'll spoil her for the rest of her life to make up for that."

"Huh." _Really should get around to doing more than just a basic skim over of mabari literature at some point. More to them than I realized._ "Mind grabbing Hawke's shoes so we can-" Varric trails off as Silence slips away to fetch said objects. "Remind me tonight that I wanted to pick your brain over some ideas I had for something nice for her," he adds. _Could just regenerate her eye but there can be (trouble) weirdness with doing that sort of ritual with animals (if she counts still). Silence probably has a soul but (if something happened, it would break Hawke)..._

"Other than steak every night for dinner for the rest of her life?" she asks, with a small, wry smile. It doesn't last long. "It's my fault. I bargained for her healing but I didn't bargain for the eye. I couldn't. Had to reduce the foothold he got on me, had to minimize the information leak. So I said, heal but not the eye, don't remove the scars, in exchange for half of what he wanted." She shudders. "She saved my life and I couldn't fix it."

"I don't know if she can reason this well, imagine this... nebulous a concept but I think she'd be okay with losing an eye in order to keep you around," Varric says softly. Then jolts, swearing, when Silence swipes the side of his face with a tongue. Doggy grin very much in place, Silence bends down to recover the shoes she'd set down, then moves to give them to Hawke.

"Never underestimate best girl," Hawke says with a grin, patting Silence. "She even recognized heart-pain and took steps to combat it. She's practically a healer."

Scrubbing at his cheek, the dwarf scowls lightly. "Anyway... get those on and we'll head out to the pond."

Hawke pulls on her shoes, and the three of them head out to the pond. This time of year, it's full of geese, but Silence is smart enough not to get over-excited and chase them... too much. When one looks to approach Hawke, however, Silence instantly moves to place herself between her Winter Alpha and the vile waterfowl, growling.

"Good to know I can relax my guard against the vile waterfowl confederacy," Varric says with a snicker. "That's clearly handled. How you feeling? Not too cold out?"

"I'm immune to cold, Papa," she says with a small grin.

"...no you aren't," Varric says carefully. "Cast and create, yes, but not immune."

She frowns. "I've sat in a room frozen solid and barely felt it."

"...frozen by what?" Varric prods. "Because I've seen you get hurt by an enemy's icy weapon before. From the icy part.

She opens her mouth to argue; she pauses, and her face falls. "Oh," she says quietly. "I forgot. It's only my own cold I'm immune to."

"Been a while since it was an issue," Varric allows gently. "Can't blame you for it slipping your mind for a moment. So... how are you feeling?"

Hawke shrugs a shoulder. "I'm alright."

"You up for... kind of a heavy talk?" Varric asks. "It's... well, it's important and I think it'll help but... it's definitely a bone-setting sort of help." Ultimately for the best, but painful and hard.

Hawke frowns, but nods slowly. "I.... I think so."

"Alright. If this gets to be too much, you have to promise to tell me so we can stop. We can try again, keep going another day, it'll hold for a while. So we can take it in chunks if we have to, alright?" Varric sounds... hopeful, but worried. Or perhaps apprehensive is better. Silence trots back to her person, a pleased expression on her face.

Hawke kneels for a moment, ruffling Silence's ears as she thinks. _Papa is really concerned about this. What if it's... what if it's bad news? Or something I-- no. I have to trust him. If he thinks I need to hear this, I should try, at least a little._ She stands, giving a firmer nod. "Alright. I'm ready."

"Thank you," Varric says, expression pleased. He takes a deep breath. "I spoke with Tanna. She... has something she wanted you to hear."

Hawke frowns. "Tanna?"

"...our newest Clan member. She.... evidently, she doesn't want to be called Verraline anymore. She, ah, isn't proud of what that name did," Varric says softly. "She's still searching for a new use name."

"Oh," Hawke says quietly. _She's not proud of what she did? But--_ "Please, tell her that I'm proud of what Verraline did," she says quietly. "But if she wishes to be called Tanna, that's alright too."

_I wonder (hope) if you'll feel the same after hearing..._ "She signed with her full name, Tanna is just what I've decided to call her. Estelle's been going with 'Progetti by the way. Means project in drow." He takes a deep breath, needing to steady himself for this. "You, uh, ready for me to start? It's... a bit long."

Hawke nods, one hand tightening around Silence's collar. "Alright."

"Okay. Here we go. She starts off by addressing you as 'dearest' by itself. After that she wrote..."

> This is... very hard to write. No, that's not accurate. This is the most difficult thing I've ever done, made more so because I don't even understand why I'm doing it. I know I have to. I know it's what is... what I should do. I think. No. I do. What have you done to me, little bird? I'm sorry, this is my seventy-third attempt to write this and yet I still don't have the right words. I just hope your guardian lets you hear all of this, instead of just the answers he demanded from me.

Varric delivers all of this in a smooth, even recitation, and with a faint drowish accent, instead of his typical dwarven one. In his normal tone, he adds, "I am, by the way. I almost didn't. I really considered editing it but... but she's Clan and you deserve to hear all of it."

"You demanded answers?" she asks softly, kneeling again. This sounds like the kind of letter where she wants to be up close and personal with the comforting, furry warmth of her best girl. Silence presses close against Hawke, resting her head on her person's shoulder.

"Yeah. I... some of the things you said, some of the things in Tenny's little gift... I wanted to see what she'd say if I asked. Far as I can tell, she sent back truth. And a lot of confusion," he admits, not displeased with how... disrupted the devil's existence and nature has become.

Hawke nods slowly, stroking Silence's back. "Alright. Go on."

"This part... well. I guess it's not really news. But the end is... interesting."

> I do love you. At least, that's the name that Mistress Estelle puts to the feelings I have for you. I still struggle to believe her but she insists she's certain. That she has proof, though she won't say what it is. Annoying bitch, even if she is very... adequate for a mortal. I'm delaying. I love you, which means that it's proper that I want you happy and safe. That's expected. And if I wish to be Clan, then I must learn the rules and follow them.

He pauses there, watching Hawke's reaction carefully, ready to sedate her, talk to her or just give her a moment if she needs it.

Hawke gives a slow nod. "Of course she loves me. I knew that. And I can send back the rules of the Clan."

"Estelle's been teaching her. She's... taking her role as..." Varric considers how to phrase it. "Instructor in how to be Clan as well as how to be a good person very personally. The next part is where she answers my questions. Remember to say stop if you need a pause, okay?"

> So. Honesty and Openness. Neither are easy for me but I have to try. I raped you. At least twice.

Hawke stiffens, her arms tensing around Silence. _No. I consented. She never._

> Probably a lot more, I still don't really understand the details of consent. You never raped me. Ever.

Hawke buries her face against the Mabari's fur. _Does she not... remember? Or--_

> The first time we had sex, when you woke and initiated things, I drugged you with an oil that drastically inflames the lust of a mortal. You were a mark then and I wanted to win. I knew mortals feel guilt- good ones anyway- and I knew I could use that to make you feel indebted to me. You shouldn't. Mistress Estelle says that Clan can't have debts to each other, which is comforting because otherwise my debt to you would be insurmountable.

Hawke freezes, not even daring to breathe as she listens. _It was... a trick? She-- she made me that way? But then-- but then, what about Merrill? What I did to her?_

Varric moves around so he's kneeling a few feet behind Silence, so Hawke can see him over the warm, comforting mabari's back. "Can you talk to me Hawke? What are you feeling right now?"

"That can't be," she whispers, shuddering. "None of that can be true."

"I swear it is Hawke. I swear I'm not twisting or editing her words. This is what she sent back as answers," Varric says gently. "It can be true. It probably is, Busty seemed pretty sure her charge wasn't lying about what she wrote."

"How could she--" she whispers, shuddering again. "How could she have-- I consented!"

"She drugged you," Varric says firmly. "That's not consent. You only agreed because she drugged you."

_She... drugged me._ Hawke knows well that drugged consent is not consent. Neither is drunken consent, nor consent when under the influence of mind-altering magics. All this and more has come up in the lectures she's attended, in talks with Zevran, in the curriculum she uses to train healers for her clinics to recognize and help rape victims. And yet... and yet...

She loves Verraline. How can someone she loves so much, who loves her back, have raped her? Rosemary was under the influence of her Heat, and even then that week was hell. How could someone who loved her have raped her for months? Have convinced her she was a rapist, leading her to try to hurt herself? How could anyone do that?

She doesn't notice the frost forming across Silence's fur, nor the shaking. "I-- it can't-- it can't be true, I-- just-- just, please ,what does the rest of it say?"

Varric studies her for a moment. "Alright. But first, take three deep breaths for me," he requests firmly. The dwarf takes the last one along with her in order to ready himself to continue.

> I... don't think it was all rape however. Mistress Estelle says it wasn't healthy, but that it could have been, if I hadn't started with coercion and lies. It hurts to think I might have ruined us. I hope that one day... No, I can't think that far ahead now. I'm too confused, too unsure of who and what I am anymore. I have to find my new purpose, my new place, before I can even think of us. But I think of you, constantly. I want to... debts or no debts, I want to try and make it better. So.

This bit seems to steady Hawke considerably. She keeps her face buried against Silence's side, but these words are a balm to her, soothing her frazzled nerves. _Yes, that sounds like-- yes, that's Varreline. That's right. The other bit I'll... I'll have to think about later._

"You seem steadier," Varric observes. _More than I'd like, to be honest. Heh. I wonder if this is a form of jealousy, this... (hurt) annoyance that another's words, another's love, means so much to her._

"This is more what I-- what I expected," she admits.

"Yeah, I... kind of thought it might be," Varric says with a soft laugh, one with scant humor. "You okay to continue or do you want to... walk a bit?"

"Please," she says quietly. "Go on."

"This one is... this one is worse. Do you want another dose of calming tonic first?" Varric warns her.

She stills. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and lifts her head. "Yes, please. Something gentle."

"Same thing you took this morning- gritty texture, sour taste, and makes your sight blurry a bit but you'll be able to think clearly and won't make you very sleepy," Varric promises, offering her a vial. He gives her a moment after taking it for the drug to take effect before continuing.

> The second question Varric Tethras demanded of me is about the dream you had before you tried to fuck yourself to death. It was fake- I used magic to implant a compulsion in your sleeping mind. 'Dream of shame.'

_Tried to fuck myself to death-- is that what I was doing?_ She doesn't know. She can't remember. She remembers the days Varreline writes about mostly via the lack of remembering, the hole in the shape of her memory. Or not a hole, exactly -- a blur, a tangle of limbs and pain and orgasm and shame all rolled together.

Then she hears the last three words, and her train of thought cuts off abruptly.

_**Dream of shame.** _

She can't find words. She can't find anything logical or reasonable in her mind. All that's there is shame, rage, pain, and overwhelming cold. A storm kicks up around her, an explosion of snow and ice and hail around them, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Silence twists in place, knocking Hawke over and then crouches over her protectively. "Fuck," Varric swears in abyssal as he moves in to jab her leg with a needle covered in a much more powerful sedative.

Over the next few minutes, the storm dies down slowly. Hawke doesn't move; her eyes are open, she stares up at the sky, letting the snow cover the bits of her the Mabari isn't, unresisting. Varric kneels next to Hawke the entire time, gently rubbing her wrists. Finally, as the last of the snow dies away, her eyes gently close. After the snow finally vanishes, the dwarf runs his fingers through Hawke's hair. "Hey."

Hawke lets out a small whimper, opening her eyes once more. They don't quite focus on him -- they can't, not with that much sedative coursing through her veins. But she tries.

"Hey," she whispers.

"It should be wearing off soon," Varric tells her gently. "This last one is fast-acting but also fast to run its course. You're going to have some dry mouth, though." _And loose stool, but that can come up later._ "How's your head?"

"Aches," she confesses, quietly. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Papa," she whimpers, tears dripping down her face despite the tonic.

"Right here, daughter mine. Right here," he whispers, still combing his fingers through her hair. "So's best girl. Clan all around you."

"I didn't hurt you," she whispers. "I didn't. I didn't even want to. It was-- it was a trick." Sentences are a good sign the stronger sedative is wearing thin, if not entirely off.

"That's right," Varric says softly. "It was a trick." He hesitates, then, "she... says more about it. If you... want to hear more." She gives a small nod. "Alright. Just... say stop if you need it," Varric says a bit reluctantly.

> I don't know exactly what you dreamed of, though I have some guesses, but it was very deliberately something you would feel ashamed of happening. And while you dreamed, I stroked your flesh, whispered in your ear and coated your

For the first time, Varric hesitates for a moment, then edits Verraline's message.

> pubic region with drugged oil, to ensure you would think yourself aroused by whatever shame you dreamt of. All to make you vulnerable, to chip away at your heart so I could force my way in.

Even altering the word 'cunt,' the poor dwarf sounds tortured and awkward as he recites the message. Hawke is quiet for a long while -- almost too long. Just as Varric is about to cajole her into speaking, however, she murmurs something, some small half-word, something unintelligible.

When Silence licks her cheek, she tries again, this time managing to form enough of the words he can fill in the blanks: "I hate her."

_Good,_ Varric thinks savagely. He takes a deep breath, still combing her hair silently. _I (lie) should stop here. I should just...let this be the end of things. Let her hate (Hawke? let my daughter hate?), let her cast the bitch off and heal (would this be healing?). Fuck._ "I... I think that's... understandable," he stalls.

"should have killed her," she whispers savagely. "Should have rent her soul in half."

"No," Varric's heart shouts. "No, that's not you. That's me. That's Zevran maybe. That's not you. You're more than that, better than that. Don't lose that."

_Am I? Deep down, am I any better?_ She lets out a small whimper, closing her eyes again. "Sorry," she whispers. _Papa's ashamed of me again. I disappointed him._

"It's alright Hawke. You've been hurt so very badly. It's... normal to hate her for what she did. She deserves your hate and anger. Just... don't let it consume you. Don't let that hatred warp your amazing, wonderful heart," Varric whispers. _Don't become me, daughter mine. You're better than that._

"My heart," she whispers, bitter, dismissive. "I paid the price, for her. And she--"

_Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit,_ the Dwarf thinks, before beginning to read again:

> I am terrified you will hate me for this. I shouldn't care. You're just some mortal, some admittedly desirable flesh. I shouldn't care.
> 
> I do anyway. I love you, even though that love broke what I am.
> 
> Please forgive me. I don't deserve it. Please keep your promise and love me. I don't deserve that either. I need you still, little bird. But I need your happiness more. Please be happy. I hope that one day, I can be part of that, but what I am now doesn't deserve to be near you. I hope to learn how to be worthy.
> 
> With all my blackened heart,  
>  Tanna.

Hawke rolls on her side, curling her knees to her chest. She sobs, long, broken, ugly sobs. Varric doesn't say anything, just sits with her, stroking her hair as the merikos elf rests her head on Silence's flank. He considers giving her another tonic but... crying is probably a good thing. Exhausting, draining, maybe even painful, but... healing. It's just after midday and the weather is fine. They can stay for a few hours, if that's what Hawke needs.

It's under an hour before she stops sobbing; her eyelids droop, and her breathing slowly evens out, though there's small hiccoughing sobs as it does. "I don't really," she whispers, finally. "I just--"

"You can do both," Varric says softly. "I know you... she did help you, I can't deny that at this point. Maybe even saved you from... worse than this. But she also hurt you. It's not... wrong, to be conflicted. About her, about what was done to you. About... a lot of things."

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "fuck myself to death," she mutters, shuddering.

"...honestly not sure how to... approach that," Varric admits. "Is... is that a Seli talk or..?"

"I wasn't trying to," she says, taking a deep breath. "I just wanted to forget. To lose myself, for a while." There's another small pause, then she adds, "I don't remember anything after that. For days."

"Ah," Varric says gingerly. "I... after... I've done... the same with booze. Once. After... after..." _Bianca. After breaking her heart and shaming her._ "it didn't work. Not for long."

Hawke nods. "It worked. Time passed without me. But... I guess, Varreline said I collapsed. So."

"Yeah. Booze worked pretty much the same way. I lost a few days, but then I was sick and in pain, plus the world was just waiting for me on the other end of my bender," Varric says with a sigh.

She nods. "That was... shortly before I got free."

"Does... did the letter... help? Knowing that it... wasn't you being weak?" Varric asks gently.

She lets out a strangled whimper. "I-- I don't know. I... yes. No. I don't-- shame, is all she said? The shame came from-- but, it was meant to be shameful. _Meant_ to. I was not-- I did not--"

"Right. Whatever you dreamed of," _Me. I think she... she..._ "What you dreamed was the most shameful thing your mind could think of. So the worse it was, the better you are. Because a lesser person would have a lesser shame." _Not exactly unassailable logic but not unsound really._

Hawke nods. "That-- I never dream of you like that, never _think_ of you like that," she whispers. "To dream that I-- that I hurt--" _Say it_ "raped you," she whimpers. "That I-- and then to wake and seem to have _enjoyed_ it.. broke me."

"I... I imagine I would... I would break, myself, if I dreamed of... of... that," Varric admits roughly. "But you didn't. You were magicked into dreaming it and drugged into thinking you liked it."

She nods, letting out a small whimper. "It was-- it was all lies. That I would enjoy... that. That I raped Varreline. That I'm so addicted to sex that I would fuck a devil just for company. That I-- but, but I did try to rape Merrill. I did."

"All of that was lies, yes," Varric agrees. "But lies don't... lack weight, just because they're lies. Lies as... sharp as those can leave scars, leave... holes in you. Merrill woke you, possibly from a nightmare, right into a sexual advance after you'd been trained and conditioned to... perform by a lilin. That's no different than a solider with battle shock being tapped on the shoulder and responding with a throw or punch. It was horrible. It's something that has to be addressed, has to be prevented from happening again, ever. But it wasn't really your fault."

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I... I want to go home," she says softly, with a plaintive tone that's nearly heartbreaking. A second later, she seems to steel herself. "Let's get back to my room."

"I know," Varric whispers back, just as softly. Silence shifts over to allow Hawke to stand, though she stays closer enough to be leaned on. "Maybe... maybe some story-time and a nap?"

"Yeah. I-- a nap would be good."

\---

Two days later, Varric brings breakfast to Hawke, instead of coming back to walk her to the cafeteria. Oatmeal and fruit, some toasted bread. Simple fare but very fresh. "Oatmeal's a bit wussy," the dwarf says disapprovingly. "Just some honey and ground clove. No texture or flavor." He seems upbeat, but... perhaps a touch overly so, as if he's trying to ensure Hawke is in a good mood.

"Thank you, Papa," she says, putting on her best smile. _Gotta shake off that nightmare. It's not worth dwelling on._

Breakfast goes... well enough, with Varric being just a hair too cheerful, a bit too entertaining, and Hawke trying to focus on him instead of the horrors and guilt of her dreams. When the meal ends, Varric coughs awkwardly. "So... how are you doing this morning?"

Her smile falters, but only for an instant. "Good. I'm doing well."

"Really?" Varric asks softly. "Not doubting you, exactly, just... double-checking." He glances aside, towards the door. "Merrill wanted to see today. For more than just a wave in the hall."

She lets out a sigh of relief. "I... was concerned you'd heard more from Tanna," she admits. "Merrill, I'd love to see Merrill. Supervised."

_I have. Twice. I just don't give a shit about (the bitch) her being concerned about your response._ "Absolutely supervised, yes," Varric agrees firmly. "I was going to be there, but if you want, we could have someone else as well."

"No, you-- you'll do. You and Silence." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You won't let me hurt her. And you have sedatives to back that up." Her tone is softer, and she doesn't meet his eyes when she says this part.

"I won't let either of you hurt each other, or themselves," Varric corrects her with soft steel in his voice.

She gives a short, jerky nod. "Right. So. Yes. The answer is yes."

Varric sighs a little, reaching over to lay a soft hand on the back of Hawke's. "Alright. She's probably waiting outside by now even though it's still ten minutes to nine bell so... you ready?"

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. Nods. Reaches to eat a grape, hoping the simple action will help steady her nerves. Nods again.

"It'll be fine," Varric reminds her as he takes out a small vial. "Calming agent- only if you need it. Don't want this stuff to become a crutch." He sets it on the tray in front of Hawke, then goes to the door. Stepping half out, he has a quick conversation in a low voice with the person there, presumably Merrill. Deciding that breakfast is over, Silence hops into the bed and curls up against Hawke's side.

Hawke slips Silence the last bit of sausage -- she'd saved it especially for Best Girl, as she did every morning these days. Some days, when she didn't feel like eating, she'd give Best Girl all her breakfast meats, though more than once part of her gift had been returned. Still, feeding the Mabari, putting her arm around her, gives Hawke comfort.

After a moment, Varric steps back into the room. Merrill slips in, head lowered and posture meek, before being directed to the chair on the far side of the room. Varric gives them both a glance, then nods. "Alright. Ground rules. No getting up without asking. No touching each other, at all. This goes well, you can maybe hug at the end. Understood?"

"Yes Papa," Merrill says softly.

Hawke nods, her eyes fixed on her wife. "Yes," she says absently, eyes intent.

"So. Merrill, you wanted to say something?" Varric prompts the elf.

Noddinger jerkily, she inhales deeply, calling attention to the fact that she hadn't been breathing prior. Which... while something the heavens-bound shaman can do, is rather unusual. "I shouldn't have kissed you without asking," she says quickly. "Even though I missed you and we're married, that doesn't give me the right to touch you like that after so long and after what happened to you and I'm sorry I took advantage of you being asleep to do that. I wish I hadn't ruined our first kiss, our first lovemaking, since your return. I'm sorry."

Hawke gives a hollow, broken laugh -- a laugh of pain, in truth. "You didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry I can't kiss you without--" Another deep breath.

"...it's okay," Merrill says softly, then winces. "Well, it's not, because it hurts you, so the why and... because are bad, but the what was fine. I... like that."

"The-- Merrill, I _raped_ you." Her tone is flat, her eyes full of despair and self-loathing.

"I wanted it- wanted you," Merrill insists. "I kissed you, I started it and I participated. We're lovers, wives, there's no reason for you to have assumed I would say no. I liked it. I like being held down and controlled. I liked that you were rough and forceful."

Varric slips a flask out of his pocket and takes a few slugs, desperately wishing he had a very fine-tuned selective silencing spell.

Hawke flinches back, turning her face to Silence. "I took what I wanted, by force, like a lilin," she whispers. "I cannot-- I **cannot** do that to you."

"What if I asked you to?" Merrill asks, voice trembling. "What if I gave permission?"

"Please, don't do this," Hawke whispers. _I gave consent, too. I let her do as she wished. She drugged me and-- and-- I can't do this, I can't do that to Merrill, I can't let her be exposed to-- at the least, not until I am better._

The elf sags a little, disappointment flashing across her face before she hides it. _Of course. Of course. What are you doing Moonstruck? She's hurting and in pain and you're pushing her to help you live out your perverted fantasies? Isn't asking that of Zevran enough?_ "Okay. I... okay, I won't... I won't ask... Can... can we just forget about this then? All of it?"

"Forget." Her whisper is harsh. "No. I can never _forget_. I can't let anyone hurt you like that, least of all me. I have to remember, so I don't-- so I don't slip up."

"But you _didn't_ , Hawke!" Merrill cries out. "You didn't hurt me! Stop saying that!"

"Just like Tanna didn't hurt me?" the hero whispers.

Merrill looks confused, prompting Varric to cut in. "Tanna, the lilin, used drugs to make you react."

"Hawke, that's entirely different," Merrill says with a nod at the dwarf. "I'm just... like that. I've always been like that. I enjoy it, it's nothing you did to me." _She... did this to... she... So Hawke was raped, for sure. She was... Oh my love, my sun and stars... I'm so sorry..._

"She didn't always use drugs. Sometimes she only used my love for her. The way I abused Merrill's love and trust of me." She sighs then, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I don't-- I can't have sex anymore. So it won't happen again."

"After she'd conditioned you, after she'd learned your body," Varric supplies. "It is different, though it's... not entirely so."

"But-"

"You would have said yes. You did _think_ yes. But she didn't ask, you didn't say it and..." Varric trails off, not sure if he should finish the sentence.

"and I wouldn't have cared," Hawke finishes in a whisper. "I barely remember anything of what she was doing during it. I wouldn't have heard her 'no' if there had been one."

Merrill opens her mouth, then shuts it. "...I..." She trails off a moment, then tries again. "I understand. A little. It's not what did happen, it's what _could_ happen?"

Hawke nods. "I am-- you have no idea how relieved I am that you didn't... that you enjoyed what happened. But it doesn't make me any safer to be around."

"You-" Merrill stops herself. "But... what if I... what if I give permission now to-"

"Merrill."

At Varric's warning, she subsides. "...will... you are trying to... relearn?" she says instead. "I miss you. I'll wait as long as you need but I miss you."

"I miss you too," Hawke whispers, voice thick. "I-- I'm sorry. I'm trying. I am. I want to come home to you, all I wanted was to come home to you, but I can't risk hurting you. Once I'm better..."

"I can wait," Merrill repeats. "I can wait however long you need, as long as you come home to me one day. And... and can I help? Please?"

"I-- I don't know if you can," she says quietly. _Even Papa only helps so much. This I have to do mostly alone._

The elf's face crumples, though she lowers her gaze to the floor to hide her expression quickly. "O-oh. O-kay," she mumbles. "So... that's... that's all I w-wanted to..."

"how are you?" asks Hawke quickly, real concern in her voice. "I haven't-- I miss talking to you."

Merril shrugs a little. "I... I'm okay. I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me," she says, the later bit somewhat hurriedly.

"Please," Marian says gently. "I-- I haven't seen you the whole time. I knew you were _safe_ , but I didn't... I couldn't _see_ you. Not even a hint to see if you were... how you were coping."

"I'm... okay. Better, now that you're safe. Healing. I was never in any danger," she reminds Hawke, unseen eyes shadowed and pained. _Why wasn't I ever in danger? Why was Anders and Wynne and Helene tempted but not..._ "I'm fine," she repeats softly.

"I know." Her tone is still gentle. "I bargained-- I made him leave you alone, forever. He wasn't able to hurt you. Never ever ever."

Merrill nods a little. "I know. Papa told us all what you... what you risked yourself for. Safety for the Clan on Nyrian land, until the last of us alive now has gone passed on."

Hawke flinches a bit. "Yes. But more than that. You-- he made me think he'd taken you, hurt you. So I made him never able to touch you again, separate from the wager."

Merrill's head comes up and she stares at Hawke. "What... what did you pay for..." _What did I cost you? How else do I burden you?_

She shakes her head. "I won it all back. It doesn't matter now. I just-- I needed to keep you safe. I couldn't, I can't, lose you, Merrill."

_Won it all back. What did you give away? Can't lose me. The helpless one. The weak one. The useless one._ "...oh. Okay," the elf says softly. "I... I don't want to lose you either," she adds in a weak, almost timid voice.

"I know," she whispers. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "That's why-- I'm going to try. I'm really going to try. If there's any way to live with what I am now, with what I might do or have done, I will. I won't try to... to hurt myself again, not as long as there's hope."

"Again?" Merrill asks in a horrified whisper, mind latching onto that all-consuming word.

Her head lifts from the mabari's shoulder, face draining of color. "P-papa didn't t-tell you?" she murmurs.

Merrill's gaze snaps accusingly to Varric. "You tried to blind teleport in the middle of a claustrophobia induced panic attack," the dwarf explains with only a dollop of slant. "That's not really... that."

Hawke's wife takes a deep breath, eyes closing. "That's... Okay. Not... that's not okay, but it's... I understand now. Alright. No more of that. Or... worse. Okay."

_He's lying_ , the hero thinks distantly. _He knows it wasn't blind, was an attempt to-- Merrill. He's trying to protect Merrill. Alright. If Papa thinks she can't handle the truth, I'll trust him._ "Yes," Hawke says gently. "I am-- I am going to try, really try. Anything the healers say. Taking my medicine, even. Anything, so I can come home."

_So going to hold you to that (daughter mine) Hawke._

Merrill offers a relieved smile. "Good. You should listen to your healer. And Papa."

"Yes," she says again, and there's a tenderness to it, a soft smile. "Papa's been..."

"Pushy?" Varric offers with a faint smile.

"Wonderful," she insists.

"Must be a language thing," Varric says with a shrug. "Pretty sure that means the same thing when applied to Papas." Merrill giggles softly, the first happy sound she's made this entire conversation.

Hawke's smile broadens, tears brimming yet again. _Merrill's laugh -- I missed this so much._

"And Silence has been around just as much- he-avens, more- than I have," Varric says.

Merrill looks a bit guilty at the comment about Silence. "I... I'm really glad to see you too, Silence," the elf says. "I'm glad you were with Hawke though. It's good neither of you were alone." The mabari thumps her tail slightly to show she's fine, but she doesn't budge from her place with Hawke.

Hawke winces. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I-- I bargained for Silence, I needed company. I shouldn't have, should never have put her in that situation. I should never have..." She takes a deep breath.

Silence huffs loudly, then cranes her neck so she can slurp a wet, slobbery tongue across Hawke's ear.

Hawke pulls away, wiping tears from her eyes. "I know, but, your _eye_ ," she whispers.

Silence butts her head against Hawke's side, then settles back down, chin on Hawke's leg and head tilted so she can watch her person's face.

"She bonded," Merrill says softly, eyes wide. "A real bond. Oh Hawke..." Her voice is filled with wonder and happiness, any sadness or jealous that might come later absent for now.

"A real-- what?" Hawke turns to look at Merrill, stroking Silence's neck and back.

"Bond," Merrill repeats. "One of the less..." Her nose wrinkles, "interesting or nice stories about mabari is that they were created by wizards that were try to create an entire race of animals that could serve as familiars without the need to devote one's own efforts to the bond. So they could bond with two animals or bond with an object and an animal. I honestly think that's silly but it is true that mabari can forge a... voluntary bond that's not entirely unlike a familiar bond. It makes them smarter, raising them from smart beasts to having a true mind, one on par with a griffon or a small mortal child. More mature in a way, but as uncomplicated. Plus they get tougher and stronger, sometimes even taking on small traits of their person." She beams at Hawke, then finishes with, "and their lifespan increases. A bonded mabari will live at least double that of an unbonded one." Silence wiggles around to get more comfortable, eye never leaving Hawke's face.

Hawke smiles, still stroking Silence. "She does seem... Well. She learned from you, I think. Your healer-mode."

"Good," Merrill says firmly. "The world needs more healers, even four legged and furry ones."

"She made me get back up," she whispers, ruffling Silence's ears. "When I wanted to lie on the floor and never get up again, she made me get up. She made me exercise, and sleep, and tried to protect me from Tanna, though I didn't listen. She loved me, and reminded me that Clan was always here, even when I felt alone and lost. But... but I got her hurt, so badly. Almost killed. I led her into the fight that took her eye."

Silence stretches out, latching onto Hawke's wrist and gumming it softly as if in gentle rebuke.

"Well... she is _your_ mabari. Being a hero and all that... well... that's kind of how we feel a lot of the time," Varric says as gently as he can.

Hawke looks up again, startled. "What? But-- you never got me hurt like that."

"Other way around," Varric clarifies. "Though I'd dispute your statement a bit anyway. Silence rushing in to be a hero, the guilt you feel that she's hurt? We feel like that when you get hurt. It's... well, it's just how it works."

The hero shakes her head. "Silence wouldn't have been there if not for me. And she wouldn't have gotten hurt if she wasn't following my lead. I'm her, her owner. She trusted me. And I got her hurt. You never-- none of you got me hurt that way."

Varric licks his lips, gaze lowering to his hands. "Not... physically maybe," he says softly.

"Never," Hawke insists, firmly.

"Rosemary," Varric says softly. "What she did was wrong but... I pushed for more than was warranted. I knew... I knew you wouldn't really be okay with what... I allowed- choose- as her punishment but I wanted her to suffer for hurting you. And that hurt you, hurt the part of you that loves everyone, even people that make mistakes or make wrong choices."

Hawke stares at him, wanting to object. Wanting to find some way this isn't true, some way to refute his claims. But... Her eyes flood with tears she makes no effort to wipe. Her hand instead comes up to cover her mouth, but she says nothing, can say nothing. Cannot lie, not about this, not now.

Varric nods stiffly, unsurprised at her reaction. "Thank you for not trying to... make light or deflect," he murmurs.

"No-one is perfect," Merrill reminds them both. "As long as we learn from it and try to make up for it, it's... not okay but forgivable, I think."

"I never blamed you," Hawke whispers. "I always blamed myself. For knowing it was wrong and doing it anyway. For wanting you and Zevran to feel better, even if I never could. But..."

"Yeah. But," Varric says softly. "I, uh, I had a lot of time to... think things over during the Wager. And... I always regretted doing that but I never... I never had the guts to say it. So. I'm sorry I did that to you."

Hawke shakes her head. _It's not me he should apologize to._ She takes a deep breath, lets it out, finally wipes her eyes. "I-- I never blamed you. There's nothing for me to forgive."

"Bullshit," Varric says bluntly. "I used your trust to get my way. Whether you blamed me or not, I sinned against you."

"You didn't mean to. Can you honestly stand here and say you thought about what I'd want and chose to break my trust anyway?" She meets his eyes, as if daring him.

Varric does the same, expression pained despite his stoicism. "Yes. Not... that bluntly, but... yes. I knew you wouldn't approve, not if you were thinking clearly, but I wanted her to suffer. So... I decided for you. No, I decided for _me_ , on your behalf. I justified it by telling myself that I was just... compromising- going for the halfway point of what they were offering and what you'd want. But that was just... a lie, to make it easier to hurt her so I could pretend I was helping salve your pain. As if you'd ever be comforted by revenge."

It's Hawke who turns away first. "I see," she whispers to the top of Silence's head.

"...umm, soooo..." Merrill falters. _Drat. I was hoping to have an idea on what to say when I got to that point but I don't even after stretching the 'so' out really long and now it's still awkward but also Varric gave me a funny look and Silence is staring at me and-_ "...ooo, reading anything lately?" she finally after a good five second pause.

Hawke sighs. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "This was a mistake." _I never wanted Merrill to see me like this._

"I shouldn't have brought this up during Merrill's visit," Varric admits. "I just wasn't sure if I'd have the guts to do it later if I passed on the opening. Sorry, Moonbeam," he adds, glancing at the elf.

"It's... it's good to talk about... things. Honest and Open and... stuff," Merrill says weakly. "I've been doing a bit of gardening?"

"and trust," she whispers. "Honesty, openness, and trust." She takes a deep breath, lets it out, looks up to Merrill. "I can't wait to see your garden."

\---

Anders paces beside the table in the conference room, waiting for Varric to arrive. As he does, he rattles off a stream of information to Seli: treatment methods, rotations, charts.

Not that she needs to know, really. This meeting is for Clan, to determine what to tell Hawke's primary healer they want done. Hawke's made strides since they last talked, and the taking of her spellbook was crucial (if gross-feeling), but they can't keep her here forever. It's best to be on the same page about what needs to happen, for all involved.

Varric's meant to be talking to Hawke, however, and the later he is, the more Anders starts to worry...

When the door opens, Anders has his back to the door. Which means his first clue that Varric has arrived is Seli's wide-eyed stare and subsequent laughter

"Oh shut it," the dwarf grumbles, a faint squelching noise now audible as he reaches the table. He's rather drenched and has.... some kind of gleaming green... strands in his hair. He also has a subdued but noticeable odor of... vegetation, water and dirt? "Alright, I'm late, let's get on with this."

Seli continues to giggle.

"What-- what happened? Did Hawke -- is she alright?" Concern is writ large over Anders' face as the healer wrings his hands.

"Hawke is fine. Very amused. Rather like this one here," Varric says stiffly.

"Is that... algae on your h-hair?" the prietess gasps out between giggles.

Varric's eye twitches.

"Did you... go swimming? Why?" Anders frowns, trying to peace together what's happened.

More twitching. "It was... unplanned," Varric replies begrudgingly, getting more giggles from Seli.

"D-did Hawke...?"

"No, of course not, it was Sil- I was checking for... something," he attempts to explain evasively. "Just an accident, nothing important."

Seli's eyes widen and she exclaims, "Silence pushed you into the duck pond!"

"Geese pond really," Varric mutters. _Evil avian bastards. Least it wasn't a complete loss (made Hawke laugh)- dinner will be nice (cooking it myself too, properly..._

Anders shakes his head, letting out a small laugh. "Well. Alright. I'm glad it was-- I'm glad it was nothing serious."

Seli clears her throat, trying to control herself. "Right. We should get started," she says, then has to fight back another giggle when she glances at Varric, who just sighs a little. Only Hawke would be able to notice the amusement carefully hidden on his face.

"Yes, we should," Anders says, turning back to Seli. "Please, sit, so on. So. Hawke's treatment, what is she-- in your opinion, Varric, how bad off is she?"

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks to Tanna's confession, I think she's... well, she's still bad off, but I can see the path out. More, I think she can," Varric replies.

"I'm sorry- Tanna? What confession?"

Varric hesitates a moment. "A... lost soul Hawke met in the Hells. Estelle pulled some drow trickery and managed to get a hold of her. She was able to confirm that the vast majority of the... worst things that happened there weren't Hawke's fault, but the result of mind magics, lies and, most importantly, drugs." His eyes flick to Seli's, which are filling with horror mixed with relief and hope. "The primary of which was Lilin's Lust." A tincture derived from the same flower that makes Ciren's Bane, Lilin's Lust is less powerful and lacks the beautifying ability of Bane, but also lacks the rapid lethality. Lilins want to control, not kill, after all. Still, it's a very powerful aphrodisiac, and one with very few after effects- all the better to remain undetected- aside from mild lethargy.

Anders nods, sinking into a chair at last. _She can see a way out. So there's hope. Keep hold of that. It's almost over, the hard part is done, really. Just a matter of time._ "Alright. Alright. So. We know what she was drugged with, some of what happened, and she's improving. Great. That's-- that's good news."

"She wants to get better now," Varric says softly. "She's not sure how that can happen. Or... on her bad days, that it can happen. But she wants it. She promised Merrill that she'll try." He takes a deep breath, then continues with describing what he's observed. He avoids mentioning how he's learned some of this, the... severity of her teleportation attempt and who- rather what- Tanna is exactly, but is otherwise completely honest.

Anders nods through the account, listening respectfully. When Varric winds down, he jumps in. "There's a number of options the healer will suggest. It's not going to be a choose-one sort of thing, but probably an approach where we try one, then try another if that doesn't work. But this sounds very, very promising." He takes a deep breath, nodding for a moment. "What concerns me is what happens when she's well enough to check herself out. It will likely be fine-- she's likely to recover well, knowing her. But we need a plan in place for her re-entry. And... it should avoid hero work for a while, if not indefinitely."

"I actually had a thought on that," Seli says before Varric can say anything. "We're about three, three and a half months out from Hawke and Merrill's wedding anniversary. I doubt it would be hard to convince Hawke to go to Raplin's Oak for a few months to relax, reconnect... recuperate a bit more in a very protected area..."

"Yes!" cries Anders, pointing at Seli. "Perfect! You're a genius."

Seli laughs a little. "Flatterer," she says, winking at him. _A bit rugged but he's pretty cute. I wonder... Ciren it's been far too long since I've been with a man..._ "Well, I just hope that's long enough for things to... stick, I suppose."

"If it's not, I can come up with some other ideas," Varric offers. "Maybe suggest a pilgrimage to Draslina or something. And... and when she's, uh, stable about sex, I was going to suggest a trip to Robijin so Busty can... finish that up."

"Are you certain that's wise? Aren't they a little..." begins Anders.

"A culture the normalizes sexualty to an inspiring degree?" Seli asks, eyes narrowing. "A culture that gives a wonderful degree of freedom to everyone in which to explore their desires and needs? Two of them Clan?"

"Into rough play, I was going to say," he says pointedly. "She might see something or be talked into something she's not ready for."

Seli blushes a little. "Sorry, I'm... I'm used to people being... that was unworthy of me, to doubt Clan that way," she says quietly.

Varric coughs a little. "That was kind of what I meant about finishing things. Hawke was into that sort of thing before the Wager. She deserves to... take that back, if Zevran and the others can get her ready for it. Estelle's got a good head on her shoulders, she'll be careful about how she eases Hawke into things."

"Surely not so soon," he protests. "Maybe next year, when she's... more stable. Or -- she's Merikosi, maybe in a few years, let the elven part of her lead, just to be safe."

Varric frowns, then nods. "Hawke's... been through this before, in a much lesser way."

"Rosemary," Seli murmurs. "She was... guilted into sex, emotional rape, for a catfolk's heat. She was chaste for only..."

"Less than a month, I think," Varric mutters, looking a touch uneasy,

"Less than a month before she was intimate with Zevran once again. This was worse, so it will take longer but... far less time than most, I suspect," the priestess says.

"And you don't think that may have contributed in any way to this?" Anders asks pointedly.

"How so?" Varric asks, then pauses. "I'm asexual, I don't understand shit about this subject," he adds, voice a touch stiff.

"You mentioned she was concerned about a potential sex addiction. Is it not possible that she views herself that way in part because she rushed back into sex before she was ready before?"

Seli coughs. "Actually, she rather deliberately ambushed and seduced Zevran," she offers.

"My point exactly! She feels she is out of control with sex -- could that not have been an early sign we all missed? Shouldn't we be trying to encourage her to prove to herself she can wait?"

"I'm not sure I believe that sex addiction is a real thing in the first place," Seli disagrees.

Varric frowns. "Maybe not... but she _does_ think it exists. Still. More than the sex, she craves the contact and intimacy. If we cut her off from that..."

"True," the healer agrees. "We don't want to deprive her of coping strategies. How about, we see how she's doing when she's at the Oak, and make the decision then?"

"I think... even if she doesn't engage in sex, seeing others do so much help her... readjust," Seli offers slowly. "If she's not ready after their time at the Oak, then we can delay for more time, or, if she's borderline, we can visit Robijin but persuade her to not partake of anything... extreme."

Varric shrugs again. "I mean... it sounds reasonable but again... not really something I understand well enough to judge."

Anders' face falls. "I won't be able to go. Seli, are you...?"

"I'm on sabbatical from the temple and Andy's job is to accompany Hawke so..." Seli smiles warmly. "Besides, I'm hoping to find someone at the Oak that can help Gilly learn how to control her gift a bit."

He nods. "Right. Alright. I leave that judgement in your hands, then." He pauses briefly. "Please write?"

"Of course," Seli says gently.

Varric frowns a little, pondering. "Actually... I was thinking about that. Started thinking about it before, during the Wager actually. The ring we have with Estelle is pretty expensive- audio is pretty complicated. But a handful of linked slates could be pretty feasible. One for Hawke, one for me, Aveline, Seli, Estelle, Helene, you and Isabela. Maybe Maeve. Just enough to be able to send a few sentences each day. Wouldn't be private- be a lot easier to have them all show the same thing," he says thoughtfully.

"Definitely worth doing," agrees Anders. "Especially in case of an emergency."

"Yeah," Varric says distractedly, lost in thought.

Seli grins a little at the dwarf's preoccupation. "So that seems settled for the most part. What should we do in regards to her non-sexual recovery?"


	29. Aftermath: Raplin's Oak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke seeks out a change of locale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: sexual recovery after rape

Days turn into weeks; Aveline arrives, and Anders disengages to resume his old duties. Hawke's attacks grow fewer and further between, until eventually, she starts yearning for her freedom more than she frets about the past.

She agrees to adjourn to the Oak, though she frets a little over the welcome she'll receive. As they pull into town she can't help but look around nervously, worried she might see Jassinth... or worse, Jaina.

Also a concern is the noticeable tension between Aveline and Varric- it's lessened since the first couple of days of her arrival, but the pair are still carefully avoiding being around each other when possible and being a touch too polite when it's not. Zevran has been a gods-send for Merrill and Hawke both. His charm and humor are a well appreciated distraction for Hawke and having the comfort of a lover is a salve to Merrill's nerves and self-esteem.

When they arrive at the Oak, it's Aveline and Merrill at Hawke's side. Merrill is hanging off Hawke's arm, clearly enjoying the rural environment- and the proximity to the minor deity, Hawke suspects. And, of course, because she's thrilled to be revisiting the site of her honeymoon. "It's nice," Aveline murmurs from only a few feet away. "How it hasn't really changed that much. It's still just... really quiet and beautiful."

"It really is," Merrill agrees softly, leaning in to brush a kiss to Hawke's cheek, the most intimacy that the pair are allowed for now.

"Di you to want to get something to eat or should we-"

"Lady zi'Hawke?" a smooth baritone calls out to the trio. "Is that- aha, it is! Couldn't stay away, I see," a merikos orc continues as the speaker crosses the street to them.

Hawke stiffens, half expecting an attack. She can't help herself; the way Jaina spoke to her the last time the pair had met has been weighing heavily on her mind, and it's inconceivable to her that Regind might not have heard what happened despite not being there.

"Ah, yes, good afternoon Regind, I," she begins, stammering a little as she glances to Aveline.

Aveline shifts a little, moving herself to a more protective position. Which Regind seems to notice- or perhaps he notices Hawke's unease. Regardless, he slows to a stop a half dozen feet away, a careful smile in place. "Pax, Lady Sage, pax," he says softly. "My wife is still a touch put out with you perhaps but I've my own mind. Jass has never been more at ease in his own skin since you introduced him to his aunt, even my love admits that much."

Hawke lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Sorry, I was expecting... well. I'm so glad to hear he's doing better. Estelle is a wonderful woman, I can't say I'm sorry in the least for introducing them." Another deep breath. "You remember my wife, Merrill, and my " _shield_ "guardian, Aveline?"

"Oh right, you're the mold guy," Merrill says brightly, getting a slight wince and a rueful nod from the druid.

Aveline steps forward to offer her hand. "Glad to hear things seem well. Wife you said? Congratulations on the wedding then."

Regind flushes with pleasure as he takes the paladin's hand firmly. "Yes, thank you, just last season. A short engagement for her people, but she... she didn't want to waste time," he finishes, clearly editing something. "What brings you back to the Oak? I'm afraid Jass is out of time for a bit, ranging to the east with a friend."

"Just a visit. I've finished another round of heroing and earned myself a restful vacation," the Lady Sage jokes, with an uneasy smile.

"Well, the Oak prides itself on being a place of peace, rest and healing," Regind says with a smile, evidently not picking up on the disemembling. He hesitates a moment. "If... if you like, I'd be happy to have the three of you over for dinner tonight. Or sometime soon if you've already plans."

"I-- Yes, I'd love to see if I can mend fences." _I'll need to have a nap before hand, make sure I'm in good shape._

"That does sound nice- ooooh, we can bring a pie! Or maybe a crumble? Or a pie and a crumble?" Merrill hums softly, nuzzling against Hawke.

"She's still readjusting to Raplin's presence," Aveline murmurs to Regind.

The druid nods easily. "She's not the only one I've seen react that way," he confides. "More sensitive than most, but at least she seems to like the aura of the Oak. And He her. Ah, if you'd like a small hint, Jaina is fond of pears."

"A pear crumble it is. Thank you," says Hawke, with a warmer smile.

"It really is good seeing you again," Regind says firmly. "If nothing else, the introductions you made for me in Nyra have really helped my research. Anyway. I'll see you at... six bell?"

"Six," Hawke agrees, with a nod. "And I look forward to hearing about your latest trials."

After a round of farewells and a confirmation of where to go, Regind heads off to complete his errands. "You okay, amata?" Aveline asks softly, rubbing Hawke's back.

"Yeah," she replies, but she chooses not to elaborate, watching Regind go as she chews her lower lip.

"Hawke..." _Please talk to us, amata. Please don't hide your pain and your fears._

"I'm fine," she says, shaking her head a bit. "Just lost in thought. Come on, let's go shopping, we'll need ingredients if we're going to bake before tonight."

Aveline sighs softly, clearly not believing that nothing's wrong but not willing to press any harder on the subject. "Alright Hawke," she says instead. "Let's see what the market has."

\---

Baking goes... surprisingly well. Hawke isn't much of a baker- and the less said about her Papa or Zevran the better, but Aveline and Merrill are perhaps surprisingly adept in the kitchen. It's not a showpiece but the finger dab of extra filling tasted pretty good to the magus, so hopefully it goes well. Varric and Zevran head off- are kicked out- before they finish, intending to look around to find a place they can rent for a few months instead of living in the inn and magical tent Varric gave the newlyweds almost a year ago. Perfectly fine for three, maybe four if they group up, but Varric, Seli and Andy would like some privacy if nothing else.

A quarter to sixth bell, the trio of ladies head for Jaina and Regind's home, crumble and bottle of wine in hand. "You're sure you're up for visiting?" Aveline asks, a touch fretfully. "Sorry, I know I'm hovering, I just..."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Yes, I'm sure," she says, quietly. "Please don't make a fuss? I don't want-- I don't want them to know I'm still... you know." Recovering.

"Of course," Aveline says gently. "I'll try to... pull back a bit. Just... kick me or something if I start to hover."

"Can we poke you instead?" Merrill asks, then at the paladin's glance, adds, "you're very solid."

Aveline cracks a smile. "Just... keep any poking suitable for public."

Things mostly settled, the three knock and are soon greeted by Regind. "Ah, good, right on time. Dinner's coming along nicely, please come in," he says, stepping back to let them inside. Their home is nice, but simple, much like pretty much everything in Raplin's Oak.

"Hello!" Hawke greets Regind, her tone warm and upbeat. "Glad I didn't keep you waiting. Where shall I put this?" she asks, holding up the crumble.

"Oh, just on the side table there is fine," Regind says easily. "Sorry it's a little cramped, house really isn't built for hosting I suppose."

"It's very lovely," Merrill assures him. "I like all the live wood. You don't see that often in Nyra, outside of Preacher's way at least."

"Ah, well, with all the druids, rangers, and Wildings around, it's really only to be expected," Regind muses.

"Not to mention Raplin himself," Hawke adds. "Speaking of, the Tree's doing well I trust? I intend to pay my respects in the morning."

"Of course," the druid says with a chuckle. "I'm sure Raplin will be happy to see you and your wife again." He gives her a wink. "And a certain one of His daughters doubly so."

"Ha! My wife more so than I, I'm sure," Hawke jokes. _Keep it together, Hawke. Keep it light._

"Maeve is very lovely," Merrill agrees, voice light but face a touch flushed.

"Merrill, Lady Vallen," Jaina says from the kitchen. "...Lady Hawke."

_It's zi'Hawke,_ she thinks absently but doesn't say. Instead she smiles. "Lovely to see you again."

"Aveline is fine for me," the merikos suli offers. "I'm on vacation so I less formality is just fine for me," she adds with a polite laugh as Merrill moves to give Jaina a hug hello.

"...of course," the elven woman says, eyes still on Hawke. "Could... would you mind giving me a hand with something, Lady Hawke? In the kitchen?"

"It's just Hawke. Or Sage zi'Hawke if you really want to get formal," she says, her smile still broad, despite her eyes being a bit... hard. "Of course. Aveline?" Extending the invitation to her paladin artlessly, she puts down the crumble and heads for the kitchen.

Jaina frowns slightly but doesn't object so... guess it's fine? Jaina steps back into the kitchen, passing by Regind, who gives an encouraging nod. "So... Merrill, have you ever heard of the mabari beetle?"

In the kitchen, Jaina looks stumped for a moment, then, "would you mind cutting those for the rice dish?" She gestures at a few onions and peppers on the counter. Aveline moves to do so before Hawke can reply, though the elf doesn't notice as she busies herself with checking on a pot of something simmering on the stove.

Hawke flinches slightly. _Not allowed to have knives yet._ Instead, she leans against the counter, watching Jaina with her arms crossed. "You can say whatever it is in front of Aveline," she says quietly.

Jaina's shoulders hunch a little. "I... I suppose that's only fair, given it was in public that I..." She sighs softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not because of that." Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I appreciate the apology, but it's unnecessary. You were only looking out for your little boy. I can respect that."

"I was but I should have had more control. And... Well, it wasn't..." Jaina takes another deep breath. "It was... ugly, looking at the way I acted. I... I was... I was an unholy bitch after Jass got back that morning and... said some things that..." She swallows. "If I hadn't agreed to marry my Regind before then, I'd have done so for his actions that day. I came very close to saying the sorts of things you can't ever really take back to my son and he stopped me."

Hawke nods. "I understand. You were afraid, and fear makes everyone ugly."

_'Jaina! Are you trying to sound like your parents? Is that what you want? For Jass to walk away and never speak a word to you again? For you to find out he's married from gossip? To know that you'll never get a chance to hold your grandchild?'_ Jaina shivers a little, stomach twisting. "You're... you're very kind to say that, to... be so... accepting," she says out loud. "He visits."

"I'm... glad?" The hero sighs. "I hope you understand why I did it. I know you're his mother, and I know he loves you very much, but no matter how much I love my Papa, when given a chance to meet my father and ask him why he abandoned me, I needed to do it. It's... it's always something that weighs on the mind."

 

"I... I don't understand, not really. I knew my parents, even if we don't speak anymore. But I... emphasize, at least. With not knowing something about yourself," she says in a low voice. "He... he hasn't been there yet. The Enclave I mean. He's... gone halfway and met with patrols of theirs a few times. And his..." She has to take a second. "Aunt." _It's... wrong, that they... together, I don't care what Bright Maeve or Granny Peli say, it's wrong. But it's his life and his mistake to make._

Hawke nods. "Estelle is one of mine. She won't do him harm."

"That's true enough," Aveline agrees. "I may not approve of all she does but I'm aware that this is because of my opinions and nothing else. She's a good person, loving and fair."

Jaina flinches at that last bit, then clears her throat. "Yes, well, I just... I just have to trust my boy to keeps his head straight and... remember the morals I raised him with. Anyway. I just wanted to... clear the air a bit, I suppose."

"I appreciate that." Hawke sighs. "I won't reciprocate. We both know I wouldn't mean it."

Aveline tosses a glance over her shoulder. "Estelle- or rather, people's automatic reactions to her- are something of a sore spot for Hawke. My amata can be... very protective of her loved ones."

"That's... perfectly understandable," Jaina replies. "Thank you for... accepting my apology. I thought about writing you but... I couldn't muster the nerve."

"Hey, of course. I know you're just doing the best you can. Feel free to write, any time. I honestly would have appreciated a letter sooner."

"Thank you," Jaina repeats. "Ah... how long are you going to be in town? Jass won't be back for a few weeks, and I'm sure he's like to... see you again." _And I'd rather he dally with you, if he has to do such things than... some of his other choices. That Lyissa girl is just trouble._

"A couple months," Hawke says quietly.

"Really? That's good," Jaina says with interest. "What brings you here?"

"A few things actually- it's almost Hawke and Merrill's anniversary, Seli's daughter- Hawke's friend and Clan- has some kind of innate primal magic she's hoping to find a teacher for and Hawke's grandmother lives her. Plus, this is one of the most restful places I've ever been, so where better for a vacation?" Aveline answers smoothly. "I'm done with the vegetables," she adds.

"Oh, good. Thank you. Ahhh... that's really all I needed if you wanted to go sit down..." Jaina rines her hands off and turns to face the two. "Thank you for your help, both of you."

"What she said," Hawke agrees. "You're welcome."

After that awkwardness, dinner goes well. Over the next hour, Hawke starts to relax, just a bit; it's not too noticeable from the outside, but Aveline notices, attuned as she is to Hawke's moods these days. They've been sleeping together every night, Aveline curled around Hawke like a shield; at dinner, Hawke sits between Aveline and Merrill, and more than once reaches to touch Aveline, to remind herself the paladin is close at hand. But the casual conversation puts her at ease, and the novelty of eating with someone who doesn't know what she's going through is even more promising. _Someday, I'll be myself again._

After dinner, they head back to the inn to say goodnight to the others before turning in for bed. After all, the best time to pay respects to the tree god is dawn, so it's best to turn in early and get a full night's sleep beforehand. Right after one small talk, for which Zevran pulls her aside.

"I am sorry I did not think of this sooner but... something occurs to me. Not a problem," Zevran says quickly. "Merely a... choice that might be better made ahead of time, so you can think it over and inform the rest of us. If we are going to the Oak tomorrow, then we should undoubtedly encounter Maeve. Who will likely make an offer as she did last time." _How do you want to react to that, my love?_

Hawke's hands still. _It's time to face this head on. They've been so patient but it will be awkward opting out while they agree, and I am loathe to tell anyone I don't have to. So..._ "Well, I suppose that will be an adventure." She tries to keep her tone light, but her voice cracks

Zevran reaches out to trace a single finger along her cheek. "Hawke... my beloved hawk," he whispers, slipping into elven. "Informed consent. Willing, pleased, consent. Do not say yes unless you truly desire it. Please."

Almost Hawke pulls back, but she forces herself to hold still. _This is Zevran. He won't let you hurt him. It's okay. It's going to be okay. And... it does feel good, really good, to be touched by Clan. To be caressed, seen, known._ Catching the sound of voices, Silence pokes her head around the corner, then surges into the room to sniff enthusiastically at her person. Hawke reaches down to pat Silence, taking a deep breath. _The way you pet Silence to reassure her, the way it feels better to be close to her, it feels good for Zevran to comfort you. Let him._ She leans her cheek just a bit toward his hand. "You have no idea how much I desire it," she whispers, her voice husky.

Zevran takes a deep breath, the single finger joined by the rest of his hand. "I think I just might," he says, voice rough. "But I also have an idea on how much you fear it as well, my love." He pulls his hand away. "Do not push yourself, not for me. I can wait as long as you require."

"I hate this," she whispers. "I hate this gulf between us. I _miss_ you. But I... I'm still not sure I'm safe. Maeve I might not be able to hurt. Even if she dies, she comes right back in a new body. So... And she's sturdy. All I'd lose is her trust. I-- it's better than losing yours."

Zevran purses his lips, considering. "Would... would you perhaps be more comfortable... resuming things with her then? Or... Aveline, if you wish to, ah, keep in the inner Clan, shall we say?"

Silence finishes her inspect and takes a seat a little bit to the side of Hawke, where she can watch both of them talk. As she does so, Beka trots into the room and begins her own inspection after exchanging a sniff with her sister.

Hawke takes a deep breath. "I-- I don't know. I don't know how much I can trust Maeve. I am worried I'll have a flashback and-- I know she likes the cold, maybe-- no, maybe it'd be better to..." She shakes her head. "I don't know what I'm doing," she admits ruefully, reaching to pat Beka as well. Beka leans into the touch, then moves to sit down to the right of Silence. Then glances at Silence and inches back a little, getting a pleased grunt from the other mabari.

"It... is possible Maeve has never had to... interact in that way with a sexual assault survivor," Zevran allows. "Would you like for me to speak with Aveline about... possibly increasing the degree of intimacy?"

"If only you two could..." she begins, wistfully. "You know what you're doing, and she can body-tackle me if I try to... to... get handsy."

Zevran starts to try and work around that, then pauses. "Well... perhaps we could?" he says instead, words slow and thoughtful. "It would not be the first time we had sex in the same room after all."

Hawke winces. "I doubt she'd go for it."

"She did before- and for a much lesser reason," Zevran counters. "And this time she would not be naked, nor... active, but merely supervising. And perhaps she might find she enjoys it. There is no real harm in asking, no?"

A dark look crosses Hawke's face. "There can be all sorts of harm in asking."

"Not in asking. But it has to be asking, not... coercion, no matter how sweet smelling," Zevran replies gently. "Will you trust me to ask Aveline if she would be willing to watch over us? Not tonight, I would not wish to pressure her, but... soon."

Hawke shakes her head. "Just asking that of her, the implication that I'd... that I'd enjoy that.. will hurt her. No. We can't ask."

"It's not about you- or me for that matter- enjoying it. It's about everyone feeling _safe_." Zevran sighs a little. "Please at least consider it. Really consider it. She never spoke ill of what occurred last time we were here, did she? With the sap?" Hawke glances away, silent. "Hawke," Zevran prompts his lover. A few feet away, Silence's attention snaps to Hawke, sensing her tension.

She sighs, relenting. "She didn't... speak ill of it, exactly, but there was... immediately after, we had a fight. Well. More of a tiff. A small argument, really. A disagreement." She takes another deep breath to stop herself. "We have a lot of those," she admits. "Mostly about sex."

Zevran nods slowly. "She is... the most... traditional of us," he allows. "It took her a while to... work past her hangups with prostitution. Most of them anyway, and I can't blame her for still being a little wary at the idea of it, given her own profession. She sees far too many that are forced into that life to be entirely okay with it and perhaps that's a good thing for a guard captain."

Hawke nods. "If I tell her, I want you and Zevran both to be involved, she'll hear that she's not enough. If I tell her, I want you to supervise me with Zevran, maybe she'll hear that she's not good enough to do more than watch. I don't-- I try not to suggest anything in the bedroom, not anymore."

"Hawke, that's terrible," Zevran says firmly. "It's great that you want her to be comfortable, but _you should be comfortable too_. She has ever right to say 'no' to anything and everything but you should feel like you're able to at least ask for things you want without being blocked by fears of offending her. I am aware not all think as this, but it is my opinion that by not asking, you are in fact taking away their choice."

She winces. "It's-- everyone has idiosyncrasies. I just cope." Meaning, as they're learning, she swallows whatever might be wrong, nods, smiles, and lets them overrule her.

Zevran just looks at her, expression loving and patient. Hawke shrugs, looking down at her feet. She shifts her weight a bit, sticking her hands in her pocket, clearly uncomfortable -- but just as clearly unwilling to budge. Zevran shrugs. "Fine. I'll go ask her to watch Merrill and I have sex instead," he says, turning to leave.

"Wait, what?!" Hawke moves to follow, startled and alarmed.

Zevran stops, looking over his shoulder. "Aveline is interested in Merrill, no? And Merrill enjoys being watched. So why should I not at least ask Aveline if she might be interested? Perhaps she will discover she likes such things. If not, then she can at least be satisfied with knowing that she tried something new."

Hawke swallows back a whimper. "She's going to-- she'll slap you, or, she's going to be angry with you for suggesting-- please, don't stir up trouble."

"Hawke... do you really think we are so fragile as that?" he asks gently. "I am not going to just... walk up and leer at her. I will ask her, respectfully, in private. We have spoken of far more awkward and personal things. And she while she has only seen me have sex the once, she has seen me dance- strip- a few times now. And I dare say she did not dislike the experience."

Hawke takes a deep breath, then another. Pulling her hands from her pockets, she holds them in front of her, revealing the shaking.

Zevran winces and starts to move towards her but Silence is already there, pressing her head against Hawke's gut. Beka springs up as well, moving to flank Hawke protectively, though the guard mabari isn't sure from what. "Hawke... take a few breaths. Talk to me. Why is this scaring you so much?"

Hawke takes another couple breaths, surrendering to the instinct to kneel and hug Silence close. "I--" she whispers, with a shudder. "I'm scared I'll lose Aveline. If there's too much friction, if there's, if we can't... with sex, with prostitutes, with my flashbacks-- I've put her through a lot and I'm scared she'll say it's too much."

Zevran rubs the bridge of his nose. "For one so filled with love, you can be _fantastically_ blind to it in others, my love," he grumbles. "Aveline would sooner cook and eat her shield before she broke up with you. And her shield _hand_ on top of it."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. _Papa was right. I don't trust them enough. I don't... trust their love for me. I need to start doing that._ "Even if it's just... Alright. So Aveline won't leave me. She loves me. She's basically my wife. She's not going to suddenly vanish over an argument. We'll... we'll work it out," she reasons, slowly. The repetition helps; each time she asserts this, she feels just a bit more confident. "But-- she could... like Anders. She's already... I wouldn't want to cause a rift between you and her, for her to make me choose."

Zevran nods slowly, given her point some thought. "We... we are not as close as most of the rest of the Clan, admittedly. Closer after these last few months." He pauses, then rolls his eyes. "Which you wouldn't know about, of course. Idiot." He shakes his head. "Aveline, as a paladin and a powerful one, was the only one of us that went anywhere by herself for most the Wager, just in case. She also spent a lot of time with each of us on protection duty. Including a good month at Voice, watching over Helene and I. Which involved being at Voice. During work hours. She was... I must confess, she was adorably awkward for the first week or so, but she did eventually grow accustomed to, ah, the environs. By the end of it, I caught her watching the strippers more than a little, though I think it was not precisely sexual interest. And she's actually rather friendly with Rosalie, thanks to her kid falling in love with Beka." Silence wiggles so she can lay her head on Hawke's shoulder, huffing softly in the merikos elf's ear in a comforting rhythm.

"She... she spent time at Voice?" Hawke's voice is small, timid, but less afraid. More like the small fear that stepping onto ice will reveal a crack. "Did she... spend much time with Nox and Lux?"

"More time with Rosalie but a bit, yes," Zevran says after a moment. "She and Lux sent one evening tearing a play apart. A crime drama, what was it called? Theft of Elegance I think? Something generic like that. They seemed to both enjoy it. The talk, not the play, obviously. Aveline also spoke with my newest bouncer, an urban ranger named T. Street kid, probably around the age you were when we met. She's been edging towards asking to work the back and Aveline noticed. Tried to recruit her for the guard, but I'm not sure how that worked out." He smiles, giving Hawke a pleased look. "And, I might add, when she noticed this, Aveline came to me and asked about T, she didn't accuse me of anything distasteful, even by tone."

Hawke manages a smile -- shaky, but real. "That's amazing. You're amazing."

"Given what she said... shortly after you got back, I suspect it was you that inspired her to do more than frown stoically as she kept watch," Zevran says with a smile of his own. "You make us want to be better people, my love."

Hawke shudders. "I hope so. I-- I'm glad you were laying the groundwork. I know I've... said things in flashbacks that... I wouldn't have said normally, or at least, in that way."

"How about... how about our wonderful Beka her fetches her mistress and then the three of us have a talk about this?" Zevran suggests. "If you're up for it."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Alright."

Beka is sent off and a short time later, Aveline knocks on the side of the door before being invited inside. She glances at the pair, noting the tension but also the lack of outright worry. "Ready for bed or..?" she asks carefully, trying to sound upbeat.

"We need to talk," says Hawke quietly, petting Silence. The rhythmic, long strokes help sooth her; she is contemplative, not afraid, when she speaks. "Not a bad-- well, I hope not a bad talk."

"Okay. Talking is good," Aveline says slowly. "The three of us, I gather?"

Zevran nods. "Indeed. Something had occurred to me this afternoon- if we are visiting Maeve tomorrow, then she is likely to offer-"

"Fuck," Aveline mutters as the problem clicks.

"As you say," Zevran agrees with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Aveline looks over at Hawke. "How do you want to handle that?"

Hawke stares down at Silence, petting her gently. "I think... I should go for it. Say yes. Stipulate a solo scene and try."

Zevran growls softly. "Or...." he says leadinginly.

"Hawke, unless you are pretending to be worse off than you are," fat chance of that, "then you're not ready for that sort of thing. Much less with someone that is... well, I know you're close but... And unless you're going to tell her what happened first, in detail, she's going to end up triggering a flashback or the like." Aveline does not think this is even a decent plan. This is, in fact, a bad plan.

"Well, so, maybe I tell her... some of it. Enough of it. The, the sex parts." There -- just for an instant, her eyes dart up, as if reading Aveline's reaction, hoping to fine-tune her response.

Aveline's not nearly the liar Hawke or Varric is, not even on Zevran's level. But she can do a neutral mask that hides what she's feeling fairly well, even if she can't present an emotion instead. "Is that what you want to do?" she asks, voice just as even.

Zevran steps back and starts quietly thumping the back of his head against a wall, much to Beka's interest. Best girl, however, continues to press against Hawke, patiently comforting.

Hawke turns her attention to Zevran, alarmed. "What?!"

"I'm fine," Zevran says brightly. "Just... marveling at the pair of you."

Aveline gives him a narrowed eyed look. "Do tell."

"Just... Hawke over here bartering sex with Clan and you trying to be as Vangal as possible, letting your Astea take the lead by not giving any kind of hint to your own desires or needs," Zevran says blandly, still thumping away.

"Well, sure, isn't there-- please stop doing that -- isn't that the whole point of talking things through, to barter ahead of time?"

"I can't sit on the both of you and Aveline could simply stand up even if both of us were in her lap which rules out layering so I need to do something," Zevran explains. "And the normal word is negotiate, which I don't care all that much for either to be honest. Bartering is giving up one thing for the other- which implies you're both just there to get what you want without concern for the other person. Negotiating at least implies you're trying to create a mutual pact. I prefer simply taking, sharing your desires and limits and finding common ground."

Aveline stares a moment. "...look, we can try the stacking thing, please stop hitting your head, it's distracting."

The merikos drow smirks a little but does stop. "So... talk yes?"

"What does the _word_ matter?" Hawke says, frustration slipping through in her tone. "Obviously I care about Aveline very much!"

"Because you're not talking, you're bartering," Zevran snaps. "You're treating her like a- a-"

"Devil," Aveline supplies after he fumbles for a word, face softening and voice gentle, loving. "You're approaching this like you're making a deal."

Hawke stares at them both, frozen like a frightened rabbit, her hand stilling on Silence's back. _Bartering. Like I'm making a deal with a Devil. Gods preserve, is that what-- is that what Lady taught me? How to be a good little bird, how to make deals while-- yes, she even told me, she was teaching me to use my body to get what I want._ Without warning, she suddenly moves: leaning over to the side far enough so when she vomits, it's not on Silence.

"Sodding-" Zevran pushes away from the wall, moving towards Hawke. Aveline is closer however, so she reaches her first, kneeling just in front of her despite the sick nearby or the softly growling mabari. A wave of healing energy, so distinctly Aveline, courses through the magus. "Hawke, talk to me, what's wrong?"

Hawke shakes her head, fighting on two fronts to keep both vomit and words inside. She loses the former battle, but wins the latter, letting out a small whimper as she finishes up, tries to breathe through her nose, tries to calm her empty stomach.

"Hawke, please," Aveline begs as Zevran backs away to fetch some towels and a waste bin.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes. _Just breathe. Focus on your breath._

"Okay. Take two more deep breaths, then look at me. Just look at me and say something. Anything," Aveline coaxes her.

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. Takes another, lets it out. Takes a third. Holds it for a moment, lets it out. Looks down at the floor. _I have to say something._

_Damnit._ "Hawke... is there something I can do to help?" she asks, shifting out of the way so Zevran can start cleaning the floor.

Another deep breath. "Sorry," she whimpers. _Not an answer but at least I managed a word._

"Talking is good," Aveline says encouragingly. "That's a good start. Keep going, tell me what's wrong."

She shakes her head again. "Sorry. I-- conditioning. I didn't mean to.."

"I know Hawke. I know you didn't mean to... imply anything," Aveline assures her, lifting her hand. "Can... do you want a hug? Or just to hold my hand or something?"

"No!" She takes another deep breath, sucking in air too rapidly, making her head spin a little as she struggles to keep in the bile in her stomach. "No. Please. Don't-- don't touch me."

"...are you worried about me or you?" Aveline asks softly.

"Both," she whimpers, which is new. "Please. I-- I can't--" Another deep breath, lets it out.

"It's okay," the paladin says, lowering her hand. "Just... just take a few more breaths and... and try to calm down. Focus... focus on Silence. She's right there, right with you. Aren't'cha girl?" The mabari grunts softly, leaning back against Hawke, a warm, solid and furry comforting weight.

_Silence. **Silence**._ Hawke turns to press her face to the dog's fur, inhaling deeply, drawing comfort from the warmth, the scent, the undeniably solid presence. _Best girl._

Aveline sits back on her heels as Zevran finishes cleaning up the worst of the sick. She gives Hawke a few minutes to collect herself, then tries again. "Hawke? How're you doing?"

Another deep breath. "Better," she says, softly. "That-- that took me by surprise, I-- I'm sorry."

"It's expected. Flare-ups like this are... going to happen. Maybe for years. But they'll get fewer and... less intense. Can you talk about it yet?" Aveline asks gently, shifting to the side so Zevran can kneel next to her.

Hawke takes another deep breath, shakes her head. "Can we.. can we start over? About Maeve?"

"Alright, we can table that for now," Aveline says with a sigh. "What did you want to talk about regarding Maeve?"

"The-- the question, the-- we were-- let me..." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I didn't mean that. About going solo. It was an opening bid."

"Opening... oh. Well..." Aveline takes a deep breath of her own. "How about... how about this- what's the... best case for what you what? If everything could work out just the way you'd like, given.... how things are, what would it be?"

She stares down at her lap for a moment, processing. Finally, she says quietly, "You, me, and Zevran, all together."

Aveline coughs softly, eyes widening a little. "...sexually, I assume?" she doesn't quite ask, voice a little squeaky.

"Oui," Zevran says carefully.

"...oh. Okay. I... Can... may I ask why? Why now, I mean?" she asks, cheeks flushed and eyes on the back of Silence's head.

Hawke winces. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't-- I don't mean to pressure you, I know you hate that, I just, I'm sorry, I--" She takes a deep breath, stopping herself. "You're protective. If I, if anyone looks to get hurt, you'll stop it. And Zevran understands... this sort of thing. Helping someone with this. But I know you'll never allow it and that's fine and I totally still love you and I want you to be in my life," she begins again, flinching back as if expecting a blow.

"Watching," Aveline says with a sigh of relief. "You just want me to watch. I can do that. Watching is fine."

Hawke stills, staring up at her with wide eyes. "what?!" she squeaks.

"I am also mildly surprised at the ease and speed of that," Zevran allows, staring a bit as well.

Aveline's flush spread and deepens in hue. "I- well. I mean... well, it's been more than five years that you've been talking about Zevran and how... skilled he is, I... well... I'm a little curious about what he does to you," she mumbles, very much not looking at either of them. "I don't... I don't want to... join in," she adds quickly. "Just... Well, it's you," she says helplessly. "I like watching you... with... _alone_ so..."

"I--" Hawke takes a deep breath, shakes her head a bit. "I want-- I would like for you to be part of it, best case, but I will one hundred percent accept you watching."

Aveline coughs again, rubbing the back of her neck to try and... to try... to have something to do with her hand. "Right. Good. So... how does... how does this work?" she asks, voice cracking.

"Well... there are many different ways this can go. I suspect Hawke and I would be comfortable with most, normally but... do you have any requests, ma chance faucon? " Zevran offers a bright smile, clearly pleased with just about any outcome to this.

"I mean, uh... whenever you..." _She doesn't mean **now** does she?_

Aveline hesitates, glancing up at the waver in Hawke's voice. "Hawke, are you okay? Do you want to... pause a moment?" she asks gently.

"I'm fine!" she squeaks.

"Hawke... Honesty," Zevran chides her.

A deep breath. "I don't want to stop talking."

"Okay?" Aveline says, brow furrowing.

Zevran's eyes, however, widen a little. "Ah. No, I think Aveline just... wanted to plan, not... get started," he tries to explain, getting a rapid nod from the paladin.

"Also fine," Hawke replies, letting out a long breath. "But that means we still have to deal with Maeve."

"We can just tell her we have plans but maybe later in the week?" Aveline says with a shrug, not bothered at all at just... turning someone down.

"Uh. I will. Uh. Probably give the game away," Hawke mumbles.

"Then... Zevran or I can explain. Or... we can explain, without detail, what happened. Or... we can say later and then just... leave it there. You aren't obligated to explain more than you can to her," Aveline says gently. "Just let us know what you want to do."

The hero breathes deeply, then lets it out. "Maybe... maybe I.. Maybe I can tell her the truth. Some of it. That I was... used poorly," she begins.

"At least say abused or assaulted," Zevran says with a frown. "Used poorly is just... it devalues the strength you've shown in recovering from what was done to you."

"Strength," she says bitterly.

"Standing back up is hard Hawke, but you're doing it." Aveline offers a wan smile. "That's strength too. But yes, if you want, you or we or all of us can tell Maeve you were... that you're recovering from sexual assault. Given her age and experience, I'm sure she's met people in your position and won't press."

She nods. "It was nice tonight," she says quietly. "Being around people who don't know. I... I guess I wanted more of that."

That gets some slight winces. "I suppose we are a bit... clingy," Aveline offers in half apology, "from time to time." She reaches out, leaving a hand an inch or two from Hawke's hand, letting her make the choice to finish the contact if she wishes.

Hawke stills, trying to stop herself from shrinking back. _Face this. Don't run._ She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and takes Aveline's hand, raising it to her cheek.

"I won't hurt you. I won't let you hurt me," Aveline whispers, letting Hawke control her hand but flexing her fingers slightly to stroke her cheek. "Or Zevran."

Hawke blinks, looking slightly startled. "I-- I believe you. Down to my soul, I know you never would." A tear drips onto Aveline's hand as she closes her eyes, smiling softly. "I... wasn't sure I could know things that strongly anymore."

A flash of surprise is quickly taken over by pleasure- and perhaps a hint of pride. "My amata," she murmurs, starting to lean in before stopping herself. _Shouldn't press. And she just-_ Turning her head slightly, she adds, "Zevran, can you get some juice or wine so she can...."

The madame nods easily, rising to his feet to fetch the requested item, Beka's eyes following him carefully.

"My Shield," Hawke murmurs, but only once Zevran is gone. "I'm sorry I got hurt. I'm sorry I didn't wait for you, for backup."

Aveline takes a deep breath. "I.. I'm sorry you were hurt too," she says quietly. "I... I don't blame you for it. You made a mistake yes, but the price was... you didn't deserve that, not in the slightest. I love you, amata. More than anyone or... anything," she finishes almost inaudibly.

Hawke nuzzles Aveline's hand, sighing contentedly. "We really should get married," she murmurs, not entirely serious.

"Okay," Aveline whispers, then goes still.

"When I'm better," she continues, with a smile, not seeming to notice Aveline's stillness.

"Of course," Aveline says lightly, trying to read Hawke's reaction under the smile. _Do I... mean that? If she asked would I... gods yes. I would. I'd have some regret for the cost but if she wanted it, it'd be worth it. Absolutely worth it. I want to marry her. I want to live with her, maybe even have a..._ Aveline lets out a slow breath. _Not the time. Focus on the problem in front of you, Vallen._ "So. Um. That's... Maeve mostly sorted. We'll talk with her, give her a... concise explanation and ask for a rain debt. And... before that happens, the three of us will... okay, I'm still kind of lost on how that part will work," she admits.

"Ah. Uh." She blinks, clearly having to drag her mind back to the present. "I suppose... we just, uh." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Step one, new lists."

"Lists," Aveline repeats firmly. "Lists are good. I assume you mean our, ah, yes-no sex list?" she asks with a slight blush.

"Yeah," she replies, wincing. "Hopefully most of this is temporary."

Zevran slips into the room with a stack of glasses in one hand, a carafe in the other and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. "Well... I don't think any of mine are changing, aside from, umm, well, I'll be dressed and... not being touched for this," Aveline says awkwardly. "What... I assume you have some... new 'no's Hawke?"

"Uh." She swallows, carefully not looking at Zevran. "Yeah."

"You know how much I cherish and respect consent, my love," Zevran murmurs as he sets the various things down so he can pour Hawke a glass of water. "Go ahead and rinse," he instructs her, go to fetch a wash basin from the bathroom for her to spit into. "And then we can talk."

Hawke rinses out her mouth, thinking furiously. When she's done, she says quietly, eyes on the floor, "No games. Just vanilla."

"I would prefer such for our first time after a long break anyway," Zevran admits. "Even... under more normal circumstances, people can change or get out of practice with... more exotic techniques. Would you prefer to take the lead or should I set the pace?"

Aveline's face pinks yet again as she wonders what the pair consider vanilla. And frets over whether what she considers adventurous is 'boring' and 'tame' to them.

"I-- I don't want to take the lead, but I don't.. I can't... obey. Anything like obedience. Anything like..." A deep breath, lets it out. "No power games. No bondage, no holding me down, no giving me orders, no-- I can't risk going into the submissive mindset."

"For some that have been... hurt in this way, it can be comforting to... have their partner at a disadvantage. With Aveline safeguarding, would you prefer- never mind then," Zevran course corrects quickly, seeing her reaction coming. "Just a... soft, easy-going bout of lovemaking. I can do that. Any... positions you'd prefer? Or prefer to avoid?"

Hawke hesitates, her mind flicking over many mental images. "No," she finally whispers, wincing a little. "No." The second one is a bit firmer. "There's nothing worse than anything else."

Zevran offers a sympathetic look, then rises the glass out before filling it with wine. "It's a light fruit wine," he says softly. Merrill's preferred vintage, weak enough that even she needs an entire bottle to get more than a mild buzz. "Anything... you don't want done? Still no biting, of course, no? Anything else?"

She takes the wine, swirling the glass gently. "Uh. Just... please, if you can, be... I know you're always, but... attentive. Listening. To my, uh, my needs. Asking me things. Don't... don't encourage me to check out, or to... go harder."

"Light and easy, with plenty of questions," Zevran confirms. "Perhaps we can both make an effort to... state our desires. Not demands, just... think aloud what we wish to happen?"

Hawke nods. "I uh... I do intend to stay verbal. Prod me if I go quiet." _Or cold_ , she doesn't bother adding.

Zevran flashes a wicked grin. "I cannot say I mind you being very _verbal_ indeed."

"Is there... anything from me that... I mean, that you need- or just want- from me?" Aveline says, trying to sound normal but squeaking a little.

"I-- what are you comfortable with? Ho-holding my hand maybe sometimes or--?"

"Umm. Well. Holding your hand is... I mean, being... close, in that position, would.. be advantageous if I needed to intervene," Aveline stammers, not able to keep the flicker of heat in her eyes hidden from her lover. Beka huffs softly and moves to take her place on Silence's right side, glancing at the elder mabari a few times as she adjusts her distance and angle.

Hawke catches the flicker out of the corner of her eye; she turns a bit more toward Aveline, as something awakens inside her. _(More. That.)After Rosemary, being with him did wonders for my self-image. He loves my scars, all the ones I had before I left. If anyone can make me feel at home in my body again, he can._ "Alright," she whispers. "Whatever you like, just... just help me feel..."

"As wonderfully sexual and beautiful as you are?" Zevran supplies easily.

Aveline bites her lip, then, "do we... should we... get ready for bed perhaps?"

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. She knows what she'll see. The downside of living for so many months in a tiny room with only a mirror is that she became intimately familiar with her body -- with every curve, every scar, with her declining physical condition. She hasn't so much as glanced in a mirror since she came home, glad to be rid of the persistent image of herself. "Should I..." she begins, fingering the hem of her tunic.

"Only if you wish to. If you feel comfortable sleeping in that, then by all means. I was intending on fetching some cotton trousers to wear to sleep while Aveline changes," the merikos drow replies, getting a grateful look from Aveline.

She takes another deep breath. "I think... maybe... I should sleep in my leggings and breastband." It would be a start -- and the first time she's removed so much as that much of her clothing in front of anyone willingly.

"That sounds fine," Aveline says gently, reaching out to stroke Hawke's hair with her fingertips. She frowns slightly. "Hmmm. It's a bit early yet... would you like your hair trimmed first, after we get changed?"

"Yes," she whispers, passionately relieved -- if such a thing can be possible.

Zevran gets changed while Aveline gives her hair a trim, then it's Aveline's turn to change as Zevran tells Hawke a story about Beka's latest trick. When it's time for Hawke to change, she stands, moving to face the pair of them sitting on the bed as she toys with her hemline again.

"Please," she whispers, though it's unclear what she's asking, or even if she's talking to her lovers or Astea. She opens her eyes, fixing them on a point between the two, against the far wall. "This is.. I don't know how well you recall what..."

"Vividly," Aveline says softly, voice low, eyes never leaving Hawke. "It's... I dislike what they represent, the pain you suffered. But they also prove your strength, what you survived. And... and my mentor used to say that scars are a good thing, because they're something only the living receive."

Hawke winces. "I-- then, I'll just say, it wasn't my..." _lover. Partner._ "This wasn't sex. The big one. The rest were."

While they digest that, she closes her eyes, and in one fluid motion, lifts the tunic over her head, drops it on the floor behind her. Her breastband covers the scar from Momento Mori, but the top of the large scar peeks out above it, ending just about at her collarbone. The bottom edge vanishes into her leggings, but a good chunk of it is visible: dark, thick, and raised, the scar runs right down her center. One only slightly lighter runs perpendicular to it, along her collarbone.

The marks on her stomach and chest -- fresh bruises, burns, small cuts -- have faded with time. None of them were apparently important enough on their own to stick around. But as she turns around to pick up the tunic, they can see the scars on her back again: a series of hashmarks, clearly the result of either a very severe whipping or, more likely, many moderate ones overlaid. They can also see a series of marks on her upper arms: a neat semicircle on each arm, punctures that scarred where the Lilin dug claws in as she held her mate still.

What she can't see is greatly cheering to Aveline. Hawke's skin was sallow when she first arrived, and she'd lost a stupid amount of weight; her skin fit loosely, and her cheeks were gaunt, sunken in, as if there was almost no body fat on her at all. Over the months since her return, she'd put on some weight, though she still weighed less than she did, and her skin had taken on a healthier pink undertone once more. She still didn't sleep well, but her eyes looked less sunken-in, instead favoring the usual bags. Her hair had even picked up a bit more shine to it, and she carried herself more confidently, less timidly.

Aveline takes a slow breath. "Can... can you tell us where it did come from?" she asks, voice laudably steady.

Zevran has just gone a bit still, still smiling but face a bit blank as he tries to wrest control over his emotions. _She looks... she looks so much like how I... like after those ten days. I- I can't- thank you Aveline for speaking. I just- I need a moment. I can't..._

"I was stupid," she says quietly, her back still to them. "This was... this was when Silence lost her eye."

"I... I suspect that when you say 'stupid' others would include the word 'noble' after it," Aveline says bracingly, moving closer to Hawke. "Can... would you like a hug right now, amata?"

"No," she whispers. "I--" She takes a deep breath, turning back to face her lovers once more. "This wasn't noble. I accomplished nothing except getting my-- my Clan member nearly killed, and myself along with her. Please, I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright, that's not what tonight is about," Aveline says firmly. "Tonight is about... about us. About us reconnecting and..."

"And remembering what we love about each other. About how incredible you are and how good sex can be when paired with love and trust," Zevran finishes, meeting Hawke's eyes with eyes determined yet pained.

Hawke manages an uncertain smile, her own eyes wounded, a little worried. "I... I hope this..." She swallows. "Alright. I'll just... come sit by you, then." Shoulders stiff, muscles tense, she moves to sit on the bed beside Zevran, between him and where Avaline was sitting a moment prior.

Aveline studies the bed for a moment, then nods. "Alright, let me..." Aveline climbs in, laying back against the pillows, then pats her thigh. "Lay back against me and then Zevran can face you?" she suggests.

Hawke climbs up to the bed, cuddling up to Aveline as indicated. With clothing on, she'd grown used to cuddling with Aveline, letting the taller woman curl protectively around her every night. This is no different, really, she tells herself.

"If I keep my muscles loose, will you be okay if I embrace you?" Aveline asks, her voice a soft whisper in Hawke's ear. Zevran crawls over to them, then kneels a little to the side as he lets them finish settling in.

Hawke nods. "Yes, I-- please."

Aveline does as permitted, one hand laying flat on Hawke's stomach, the other on her own wrist. "I love you," she murmurs, lips brushing Hawke's slightly tapered ear. "How're you doing?"

Hawke takes a deep breath. "It... I hate having you see me like this."

"You're healing," Zevran says softly. "Your skin isn't... pale and..."

"Sallow," Aveline supplies. "That off-yellow color, it's... sallow."

Zevran nods slightly. "And you aren't as gaunt either. Need to start training again, I think, but we'll get to that soon enough." He leans in, making sure Hawke meets his gaze before saying, "you are still beautiful. You are still loved and wanted. Please trust that."

Her expression softens. "I-- I will try." She swallows, blushing just a touch. _He still looks like he means it -- maybe more haunted than usual, but otherwise, still the same._

Zevran studies their positions for a moment, then lays down next to the two ladies, putting himself a little beneath Hawke. Less threatening. "Would you like to touch me?" he offers, a flirty smile creeping onto his face.

"Always," she whispers, but it's a moment before she can bring herself to reach out. _You won't hurt him. Just be gentle._ The backs of her fingers brush his cheek, tucking some hair gently aside.

On the second pass, he slowly shifts his head so he can brush a kiss on her fingers. "May I touch you?"

Her breath catches in her throat, but she nods. "Yes," she whispers a moment later. _Stay verbal, Hawke._

"Right here," the paladin at her back reminds her. "It's safe."

Zevran's smile turns wicked for a moment and he kisses her hand again as he reaches out to lightly ghost his fingers along her arm. "I have missed you dearly, my love."

Hawke lets out a small whimper. "I missed you, too, so much. So-- so much," she whispers. "I-- the first few weeks, I was alone, I..." Another deep breath. "I _missed_ you."

"I know," Zevran says quietly. "I love Merrill and Helene and ma'bela all, but... love is.... all love is wonderful, yes, but it is not... interchangeable. Missing you was not solved by having them. Helped, yes, I'd not compare my... lack to what you went through but..." His fingers skim, light and warm, across the inside of her arm.

"I missed you often," she whispers. "When I was bored, and alone, and lonely, and I just wanted to be... to be touched." She sighs, leaning back a little. "I missed Aveline most when I was frightened, when I hated myself for being so stupid as to be caught and wished I had someone to take care of me. And then that-- that-- _She_ came along and ruined both wishes."

Aveline's arms tighten, just for a second before she forces her aggression back. "I have you now. And if... well, I'll be blunt, I'm not sure I'll be able to pry myself away from you for... oh, I suppose a year or so."

As she speaks, Zevran skims his hand upwards, tracing the edge of her breast band. "Remember, you can say no at anytime. Or just redirect me."

Hawke's breath catches a little in her throat, and she nods, vigorously. "Do you... If you want that off, it's... it's not that different from... where I'm at."

"Hmmm... perhaps a bit later," he says lazily, finger sliding down to neatly _not_ trace her nipple. "I think I'd like to show you some things that can be done with it on."

A quick intake of breath, remembering-- _"Hold still, little bird. This will make you mine. It will only hurt a moment."_ \-- "Hold," she whimpers.

Zevran's finger moves a centimeter off Hawke's skin, then he freezes. "Holding."

A couple deep breaths later, some of the tension flows out of her shoulders. "Alright," she whispers, nodding. "Alright. Please don't... tease something. Do it, or tell me what you'll do, but don't..."

Zevran nods slowly. "I see. Okay. Do you have a preference on do or explain?"

Hawke chews her lip for a moment. "Explain," she relents. "But it's not very sexy. I just... I know I can trust you, but my body doesn't know it anymore, you know?"

"That depends on how I explain it," Zevran replies. "For instance, if I say that I want to touch your breasts with both hands and mouth so I can take advantage of the cloth barrier dulling the sensation so it prolongs the pleasure... meh." His voice shifts to a low, husky whisper. "But if I say that I want to slowly touch every inch of your sweet breasts, learn each curve and swell... that I want to make sure it lasts, make sure that your pleasure simmers and grows slowly, wondrously, until your body craves my touch just as much I as yearn to touch you..." He licks his lips a little, looking up at her with hooded eyes. "May I touch you again, lover?"

"Yes," she whispers, breathlessly. "Yes."

The next several minutes are the least inhibited Zevran's seen her since she vanished. Which isn't to say she doesn't hold herself back -- but she doesn't have to make a conscious effort to let him touch her, and twining her fingers in his hair feels natural, feels _right_ in a way that holding his hand hasn't. So caught up in the sensations is she that she doesn't recall why he shouldn't remove her breast band until it falls away, revealing two simple silver barbells piercing her nipples. They're a far cry from the elaborate pieces she had in when she arrived, to be sure, but...

Zevran hesitates a second, trying to decide how he wants to address this. "I like the silver. Contrasts well with your areolas," he comments, fingers curving around the bottom of her right breast. "And, of course, it matches the piercing I have."

_Your ears aren't pierced..?_ woders Aveline. _And neither are your, ah, nipples? Wait, Hawke has... oh. Those are..._ Aveline swallows thickly.

Hawke winces, remembering now that he's mentioned it. "I didn't pick," she says flatly.

"...do you not like them?" he asks gently, settling his fingers into a repetitive stroking to keep her simmering without distracting.

She sighs. "I did," she admits. "I loved them, at the time. But.. I wasn't... in my right mind. And... I didn't ask for them." She hesitates, then says softly, reaching out to run the tips of her fingers along his arm, "like your tattoos, a little."

"I see," he replies quietly. "It... it has taken some time, and the love of thr- four mortals," _three women and Helene sounds awkward,_ "but I have learned to accept them. To... take the good in them and make it mine, then discard or... marginalize the rest."

"If... if they weren't from... her, would you like them?" Aveline asks softly.

Hawke breathes deeply through her nose, chewing her lower lip. "Those two, yes," she finally admits in a raspy whisper.

"Then keep them," Aveline says firmly. "If it's good, then keep them. Don't let her... tarnish something good." _Those two?_

Hawke shudders, pressing herself against Aveline for a moment. "Alright, love. I... I'll try."

Aveline sucks in a breath at the movement. "G-good," she says. "Do you want to continue?" she adds quickly.

Hawke nods. "I-- I thought it would be harder, like this, but it's... it's easier, a little. To talk about my body and not... " _not how it got this way._ Zevran, sensing an opportune moment, flicks his finger up, just grazing the nub. "Ah!" she cries, arching her back slightly. That's somewhere between a pain cry and a pleasure cry to Aveline, though Zevran would recognize that noise intimately from their previous games. It means, 'go on'.

He can't, however, as Aveline has his wrist in an iron grip. "Hawke, are you alright?" she demands.

Hawke lets out an indeterminate whimper, closing her eyes and panting. _That-- I-- please--_ "more," she whispers.

Aveline hesitates, eyes locking with Zevran, who shakes his head. "Hawke, I need you to focus on me for a moment," he says with clear regret. "Talk to me. More what?"

"More, that," she whimpers, shaking her head. "Please, touch me, please."

"Hawke, you're slipping into a sub's mindset," Zevran says softly.

Aveline lets go of his wrist, instead reaching up to cup Hawke's face and tilt her head back to look up at her. "Hey. Do you remember where you are? Who you're with?"

"Lady, my Lady, please," she whispers, before she can quite stop herself. She freezes for a second, then takes a deep breath. "Aveline."

_Lady Lawful? Hawke never calls me that, only Varric. Well, not lately but..._ "yes, amata, I'm here with you."

Zevran, being a bit more worldly in these matters, clues in rapidly. "No, Hawke, you're home. With Zevran and Aveline."

"Right. With-- with Aveline and Zevran." She takes another deep breath, shaking her head. "Of course. Sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for," Zevran counters. "It is very easy to slip back into one's..." He hesitates, then just goes for it, "slave skin. Not just because one is conditioned to be such, but because it can be very hard to predict what will invoke that mindset. But you will learn, both how to avoid it and how to shed it again and again, as often as need be."

Hawke shudders. "I wasn't-- it wasn't-- like that," she admits, softly. "I-- nevermind. Just. That felt good."

"You were not technically a slave, no," the merikos drow allows. "But that does not mean it it entirely dissimilar. As for the... tweak..." He grins roguishly. "I know."

"You've always been, umm, fond of that," Aveline agrees in a tight voice.

"Of-- oh! Yes. I rather enjoy these new accessories." She gives a rougish grin.

Aveline clears her throat to limited effect as her voice is still husky when she says, "so, umm, did you want to keep going?" As Hawke relaxes after that rough second or two, she can feel two hard points pressing into her back.

"I am amendable to more or settling in to sleep," Zevran chimes in.

"I--" _Be reasonable. You're going slowly for a reason. Let it become comfortable. Then beg for more._ She chews her lower lip, blushes faintly. "...should probably stop, but... but..."

Zevran considers for a moment, then offers, "I could simply give you a massage, to accustom you back to being touched."

Hawke nods. "I.. I'd like that. It's been--" She stills, then shakes her head. "No. Nevermind. No massage."

"even that?" Zevran murmurs sadly. " Well... would you like to touch me? A massage or just exploration? Above the waist only for now."

Hawke sucks in a deep breath, lets it out. "Alright. I-- Aveline will stop me if I try to pressure you."

"Of course," Aveline says firmly. "What are your limits Zevran?"

He looks a bit off guard for a second, not used to having it stated so.. forcefully. Or by Aveline. "Ah, well, nothing below the waist. No pain tonight. Light kissing is fine, but no biting tonight either. No marks, save for love welts, actually, so no nails either." He shrugs. "That is all to start, I will speak up if something bothers me."

Hawke nods, committing the list to memory. "Alright. That's easy enough." She takes another deep breath to steel herself, then reaches down with the tips of her fingers, tracing along one of the tattoos on his arm gently.

Zevran smiles warmly at her, then lays back on the bed, flat on his back with his arms folded underneath his head. That done, he closes his eyes with a contented sigh.

After a few minutes of careful touches, when Hawke seems to be relaxing, Aveline asks softly, "would you mind if I combed your hair with my fingers?"

"That would be nice." Her voice is soft, and there's an odd tone to it -- almost sleepy, almost trance-like. It sounds vaguely familiar. Is she... relaxed? Truly relaxed, not her new normal of cautious and tense but smiling?

"She didn't cuddle." She throws this out casually, her fingers tracing the lines on Zevran's chest. "She didn't see the point. Aftercare, sometimes, but not cuddling. Not companionship."

"She is a fool," Zevran says lazily, eyes not opening as he soaks in Hawke's touch and affection. "You are sublime at cuddling."

Aveline slowly runs her fingers through Hawke's freshly cropped hair, resting her cheek against her head briefly. "Agreed. I often enjoy this more than the sex. Just... holding my Astea close," she says in an almost trancelike tone.

"I'm no Astea." Even the venom is muted, somewhat. Her fingers only pause a moment before she goes back to stroking, tracing one line across his nipple mischievously.

Aveline's hand stills a moment. "You're not Astea, you're _my_ Astea," she says as she resumes. "It's very different. I... I have trouble putting words to it but it is. You... you're love. I never stopped thinking love existed, I just... didn't think... it became an ideal, a concept, until you warmed my heart again. When I think of love, it's the feeling you call from me that I think of."

Hawke gives a small shudder. "I can't imagine anyone doing this to... to someone that important. To take someone who embodies love, the pure ideal of it, and... and break them..." She swallows, trying to suppress the second shudder. _Focus on Zevran, on your hand._

"She's a devil," Aveline says simply. "That's what they do, they take good people, good causes- anything really- and twists and corrupts them until they're... lesser. But she didn't win. You held on long enough to get free. To come back to us. You're home. You're safe. You are loved."

Zevran purrs softly, twisting his head to nuzzle her wrist.

Hawke traces her fingers along his jawline, silent for a time as she recovers her composure. "I am home. Even if I'm never the same again, I'm home, I'm alive, I'm with Clan. I could just stay like this, with you two, for the rest of my life, and it'd be enough." A moment later, the guilt hits, and she adds, "Well, with Clan. I'd miss the rest of the Clan after a bit."

"I understood what you meant," Aveline assures Hawke softly as she traces the edge of Hawke's ear with a fingertip. "This is very nice. I... I'm enjoying it more than I honestly expected. It was... powerful, watching you... enjoy yourself, thanks to Zevran."

"Wait until you see what else he can do," she purrs.

Hawke can <>feel Aveline blush behind her. "Not- it was you. Your reactions to him. I mean... I... you're very good, I will admit that Zevran, but it was because it was Hawke that..."

Not opening his eyes, he shrugs a little. "I will not pretend to understand how you bind love and lust in your heart, but it does not bother me that you do not find me appealing. It did, for a little while, but that was merely ego."

Aveline hesitates a moment, then, "I don't... _not_ find you appealing, exactly," she confesses in a low voice.

"Nobody could _not_ find Zevran _attractive_. He's blessed by Ciren himself. But not _wanting_ him, that's personal choice."

Zevran chuckles softly. "My torso please?" he requests warmly.

"I... Normally, the thought of... wanting someone other than Hawke is... it feels.. off. Almost... greasy and... wrong," Aveline says softly, feeling almost lulled by the atmosphere of a confessional they've created. "But I don't feel that way about Clan anymore. Even... I went by Voice to get Zevran's paperwork before I met up with you all at Summerhill, to spare him the need for a bonded messenger. I ended up having dinner with Nox and Lux and... it was nice. Even when Lux flirted with me, it didn't... bother me. I wasn't interested or anything, but it wasn't bad." She takes a deep breath. "I am simultaneously pleased, worried and amazed, with a slight flavoring of... guilty about that."

"Don't be," says Hawke, letting her fingers drift down to Zevran's torso. "They're Clan too."

"Not about- not just about them. About... how I've changed. I think it's a good thing. I'm not Astean," though Vangalites are often close to being such. "But I don't think being able to... love more is a bad thing. I just... I have trouble sometimes, with feeling guilty about- no. About feeling ashamed that I'm attracted to someone other than you. I don't... want to, it's just..."

"I love you," says Hawke quietly. "I will love you even if you leave me. I will love you even if you love someone else. I will love you even if you hurt me."

Aveline hisses softly. "Hawke, that's not- Hawke, please don't say that," her shield begs. "I would sooner be cast out naked into the wilds, crippled and blind, than hurt or leave you. Please don't..."

"I know, it's okay, I know," she croons, moving her hand from Zevran's torso to briefly stroke Aveline's cheek. "I just mean, no matter what you do, I will love you. So you don't have to be afraid. or ashamed"

Aveline relaxes, pulling Hawke tightly against her for a moment. "Sorry. I just... I suppose I still have some... difficulty seeing what you see in me. What you said earlier tonight, about... me being safety and comfort... that helps. A lot. I know I can't... that I won't ever be as... pleasing or adventurous, in bed or otherwise, as... as _any_ of your lovers. But knowing I give you that... it helps."

"I don't want adventure in bed from you," says Hawke, gently. "Well, I mean, I wouldn't say no, but that's not what I love about you. You're fierce, and so brave, and so strong it's terrifying -- in a good way -- and you never, ever waver from your duty, and you... you're just so.." Tears drip down her cheeks, but she soldiers on. "I love you. You're wonderful, a creature of awe and majesty, my shield."

Aveline's breathing shudders as she starts to cry as well. "I love you amata, with all that I am. Thank you. Thank you so much for.. just being who you are. For loving, for caring, for trying."

Hawke catches her hand, lifting it up to kiss each finger. Her other hand strays downward again, tracing Zevran's tattoos idly, reminding him he's here, he's part of this Clan, part of this moment. Zevran smiles faintly, but he remains quiet. _It is nice, to simply be here, be part of this. I know how diligently Aveline protects her privacy, so for her to speak such intimate words despite my presence... it is touching._ Hawke's fingers glide over his abdomen and his muscles tense as he's vividly reminded of the other touching going on.

"...you can move closer," Aveline murmurs a touch drowsily after a few minutes. "Zevran, I mean. You don't have to carefully not touch me." He opens his eyes a moment to study her face, then rolls over so he's against their sides, his face pressed against Hawke's arm.

"I love your tattoos," says Hawke quietly, her fingers trailing along his side, his back.

"I am rather fond of _your_ tattoo," he replies easily, kissing the upper swell of her breast briefly.

Aveline makes a thoughtful noise. "I... you know, I've always wondered about what prompted that," she half-asks.

"I was deep in submissive mindset," she admits. "and Mis-- Matriarch Emirison thought it suited me. I'd been wanting to get one, though. I love the idea of some kind of symbol of my Clan, something I can wear to say, I belong to-- with them, with us."

Aveline kisses the top of Hawke's head in silent support. _Gods, what must it be like, to have been broken and forced into such thinking? To have your... hobby or... whatever it is, used against you? Twisted and perv- corrupted._

"Have you given any more thought to expanding?" Zevran asks sleepily.

"Yeah. I'd like to." She traces his tattoos for a moment, then asks, almost timidly, "Would you want to get matching ones? As... I know you don't want a ribbon or anything but... a symbol? Along those lines?"

"Did you have something in mind?" he asks curiously.

"Just... something matching. Maybe add a ribbon to my existing hawk, or... I'm not sure yet."

"Perhaps... a silver butterfly for Hawke and a, well, hawk for Zevran? With ribbons or something linking them?" Aveline offers, half asleep.

"Oh, could we design it so they're clearly two halves of-- or, we would want three pieces I think?"

"Both: three coupled sets, two each, that match into a set," Zevran supplies, then frowns. "Did that make any sense?"

"Each of us with one that matches the other two. Yes." She hesitstes. "Are we more a triad than we are a couple?"

"Hmm? No, two each, one to match both others but all three fit a theme," he tries to explain. "One triad and three couples."

"No, I got that, only, I already have a ribbon-and-ring with Merrill. If I get a tattoo of her too then it's like I am more hers than yours. But if I am married and we are a triad maybe I am?"

"You're my next-of-kin, if that helps," the merikos drow offers carelessly.

"I-- yes, it does. When did you--?"

"....about a month before you Saged," he says softly. "I could think of no one else I would be as... At ease with leaving Voice and the rest to as you. Rosalie could manage it but she could not run it. Helene is the same. Merrill... well."

"Ah." Understanding laces her voice, but also sorrow. She doesn't say anything else, her hand drawing lazy circles around his nipple.

Zevran opens his eyes to lookup up at her. "Voice is my legacy," he says slowly. "A dream, a cause and a... a prayer of gratitude. It would not have happened without you. Not just rescuing me. You saved me. Inspired me to be better, to try. Voice is my legacy but... I think of it as our legacy as well."

"I know," she says quietly. "You love that place. It's a home you always wanted. And you know I will take care of it if anything happens to you. I just..." She sighs. "I just have ugly words in my head." _Like, 'pet drow'._

Zevran studies her another moment, trying to... _No, I can't... that is not a topic to be had tonight._ "I know you would," he says instead. "I trust you, Hawke, my voix dans l'obscurité. I would gladly bear your mark, knowing you wore my own."

"Then... then let's do it. Regardless if Merrill wants to or not." She smiles down at him, bending to kiss his cheek. "I love you."

_As if our flower would turn down anything that links us closer together,_ Zevran thinks fondly, turning his head so her lips will fall on his. _The hardest part of that talk will be convincing her not to put the marks on her forehead or the like._

She pauses, her lips a breath away from his. _This isn't like before. You're better now. You're... you're safe now, right? Surely?_ She swallows, then darts forward for a quick peck on the lips, pulling back almost immediately.

Zevran stares up at her, lips quirking into a smile. "All is well, my love," he whispers, then presses in with his fingers. A small shock of pain, more warning than anything else, travels up her arm from the nerve cluster he's touching, a silent proving that he'd been ready to stop her if need be. He wets his lips then, a silent invitation for a longer kiss. Overcome, she leans forward once more, kissing him deeply, hungrily.

Zevran kisses back just as hungerily for a good minute or so, then uses his other hand to press lightly against her chest. It takes her a moment, but she does finally pull back from him, her eyes a little desperate but her body under control. "There we go," Zevran whispers. He starts to say something else, but falls silent at the soft snore from Hawke. Or rather, behind Hawke.

Hawke swallows, eyes widening a hair. _Aveline's asleep! She can't-- if I--_ She takes another deep breath. _But I didn't. I stopped. I.. I stopped._

"It's okay," Zevran whispers soothingly. "She's have woken if... aught happened and I didn't stop you myself. Not that you needed stopping," he points out. "But perhaps we should try to sleep ourselves?"

Hawke nods, closing her eyes -- and moving a smidge closer to him. "Love you," she whispers.

"Love you too," he says sweetly, kissing her neck before cuddling close against them both, though he's careful to keep his hands on Hawke.

\---

Hawke, Aveline, and Zevran spend the next three days together, most of them spent just like this: sweet days, simple days, languid and slow and lovely. Hawke revels in her rediscovered sexuality, loving every second spent in her Warrior's arms, with her Shield. Loving every touch, every sigh, every whimper. Loving them, and the Clan they've made.

Over breakfast on the fourth day, seeing how much better Hawke is feeling, Merrill dares to suggest a bath. The table pauses, a held breath shared among them, until Hawke accepts, instantly inviting Aveline along for supervision. After all, Prestidigitation is a wonderful spell, but it doesn't leave the body feeling quite... clean.

She spies the problem when she gets to the bathing room. Hesitating, toying with her hem, she glances up at Merrill and is stricken dumb by the site of her. Tears flood her eyes as she mouths a silent prayer thanking Astea for her wife, her wonderful, beautiful, unmarked wife.

"Hawke, are..." _No, of course she isn't, she's crying silly girl_ "Umm, Hawke..." _Stop being a silly boob. But what if I mess up? Pretend she's just another person that needs help from Never Alone. But this is Hawke not some stranger. Then that just means you should have more motivation. Help her!_ Merrill takes a step closer to Hawke a bare second before Aveline would have done the same. "Hawke, why are you crying?" she asks in a soft, calming voice.

"I... I missed you so much, you... You are so beautiful, my love, my wife, I...." Hawke shakes her head. "I am ashamed to be so... So... So merely myself in your presence."

Merrill stares at her a moment, dumbfounded. "What?" she squawks. "You're so much sexier and prettier than me! You're magnificent!"

Aveline considers the two in front of her, then steps back, literally and figuratively. _Zevran and I have had days to reconnect. Merrill needs this, if she can help, I should let her._

Hawke shakes her head. "I _missed_ you. I missed your pretty pale skin and the tips of your ears and the sound of your laugh and that weird little freckle on your thigh and your long toes and your-- _everything_."

_She- she did? But... Why didn't... No, be happy with what you're given. It's more than you ever thought you'd get. So much more._ "I... Oh. I really, really reallyreallyreallyreally missed you too. So much." She takes a shuddering breath. "I'm so glad you're home. If it wasn't for Helene calling Astea and the Goddess saying there was something we could do to help, I don't think I could have..."

Hawke lets out a strangled sob. "I'm so sorry, Merrill. I never meant to-- it was just like Anders. I thought I could solve it and get back to you. Get home safe. I--"

"No, no, no! I don't blame you for it, not at all," her wife says quickly. "It- it was like D-Denarias. It wasn't m-my fault he took me and it wasn't your f-fault either."

"I... Papa told me to wait for backup, but I was.." She swallows. "I was stupid. I'm so sorry."

Merrill studies her for a moment, eyes drifting to Hawke's shoulders, where she can just see a pair of pale dots on Hawke's upper arm, where the light tunic doesn't quite cover. New scars... she has so many. So much pain and hurt. "You... you were," Merrill admits baldly. "But I forgive you, if you want that forgiveness. You made a mistake but you didn't d-deserve what happened. None of us did. So... so just promise to wait next time. Okay?"

Hawke nods. "I-- I will. I don't ever, ever want to leave you, I-- It was-- I missed you so much. The others I could see in the mirror sometimes but you not at all. I was so worried."

"Mirror?" Merrill asks, distracted by this new bit of rather puzzling information.

"There was-- he set up a mirror, in my chamber. So I could see what he was doing here. Only when he interacted with someone, but I could... at least I could see some of you alive and healthy, and I could infer... some of your mental state. But... and I knew if anything had happened to you Papa would be distraught, and he wasn't, so, I knew you were okay, but there's a wide range of okay and I knew you'd be missing me horribly and I-- I wanted-- I missed you."

_Only when he interested with... so he really didn't... I wasn't... I'd hoped that maybe I'd just not... noticed when he... or..._ Merrill musters a wavery smile. "Oh. That... Z-zevran had, ummm, suspected that Ten-zero was... showing us to you. Showing us in d-danger or... feeling bad. T-to, umm, b-break you. S-slaver do that, sometimes."

Hawke shudders. "That's... probably why," she says softly. "I did.. break, once or twice. I, uh. I got better."

_That was more the... bitch devil_ , Aveline thinks sourly, fists clenching for a moment as she entertains a brief daydream of having Tanna alone in a soundproof room for about five minutes. _Bitch would be lucky to even crawl one day after I got done with her, Clan or not. I can't deny that... it does seem that she might have helped Hawke survive the contract devil's torments. Varric confirms that much and... ugh, Bright Dae seemed to imply some things... still not sure how much of that was just in my head... I should ask Zevran but... later. But she still did a hellish number on my amata herself so..._

"Good. Breaking is no fun," Merrill whispers with a faint shudder. "We'll help you get even better. Just like you helped me."

Hawke nods, slowly. "I... I'm ashamed of... how I look now," she whispers, looking down at her tunic.

"Scars can be removed," Merrill offers simply, thinking of pale white lines on her inner thighs, on the under side of her upper arms, that faded after a day or two thanks to healing magic. "It's harder, once they've set, but they can be removed. Keep the ones you want, if any, as... as a memento, a reminder of the pain you overcame, but the rest... the rest can be washed clean."

Hawke is quiet for a long moment. Then, she shifts her weight a little, saying gently, "Maybe I should do that... and we can try this again after?"

"...if... if you can't bare to... to be seen by m-me," Merrill says, voice quivering only a hair, "then I could... leave so you can bath alone."

"I can't bear to hurt you," she whispers. "After Rosemary I made sure to heal the marks before you had to see them. Bad enough Zevran did."

"Hawke, I... I already saw them," Merrill points out gently. "At the temple, in Nyra. I was the one that cleaned and dressed you when we got home, while you were unconscious. I'm your healer after all." A pause. "And your wife."

Hawke blanches, looking at her feet. "O-oh," she whispers. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I-- I hate looking at myself, I hate to make people look at me."

"I... I don't like the new scars, because they mean you were hurt. But I still like looking at you. I love you Hawke. What you look like isn't... you're beautiful to me. More than... Isabela, Estelle, Maeve, Aveline, Dominque or any of the other women at Voice or wherever." Merrill takes another step closer. "Please don't ever feel bad for... being with me. For letting me see you."

"Be-beautiful?" she whispers. "With-- this one, this scar," she says, drawing a line over the top of her tunic, "it's-- it's hideous, I can't stand to look at it, and I was locked in a small room with a mirror for months forced to look anyway, so I know what it looks like."

"It doesn't belong there. It's not part of you," Merrill says simply. "It doesn't take away from what you are to me. I don't like it because it hurts you, not because it... makes you ugly or something. It can't."

"But it... It is," she whispers. "That scar is... It shows how stupid I was. How I failed. That scar, and Silence's eye..."

"No," Merrill say stoutly, moving closer yet, leaving them within arm's reach of each other. She stares Hawke in the eye, a stubborn glint in her gaze. "I fail all the time. Does that mean I don't..." Her firm, unyielding tone falters and a look of uncertainty takes over. "D-do I d-deserve you? Or Z-Zevran?"

"No," she says for a heart-stopping moment as she reaches to stroke Merrill's cheek with the back of her fingers. "You deserve so much better. You deserve the whole world."

Merrill begins to cry, slow, quiet tears that blur her vision but do nothing to hide the utter relief and joy in her eyes. "Je t'aime, mon Hawke, les étoiles et le soleil qui me guide," she whispers softly, slipping into elven to express her love and devotion to her wife.

Hawke can hardly help herself: she moves in to kiss Merrill, her wife, her _wife_ , soundly on the lips. It's not lilin conditioning that moves her this time; it's love, the depth and force of which sweeps away her doubts. Merrill leans into it as well, eagerly, pliantly, pressing herself against Hawke with the desperation of a drowning woman brushing up against a lifeline.

Perhaps unheard by Hawke, though very much unnoticed by Merrill, is Aveline moving towards them in order to be on hand if needed.

Hawke's hands roam across Merrill's back as she does, tracing a lazy circle around it. She dips to the very top of her butt, then swirls back up into chaster territory, refusing to grab hold and pull her closer. Finally, she breaks the kiss, staring into Merrill's eyes, raising one hand back to her cheek. "My wife," she whispers.

Merrill lets out a hiccupping sob, then presses her face into the crook of Hawke's neck, just clinging tightly to the magus as months of repressed emotions flood out, along with a stream of whispered endearments and professions of love. Hawke holds her close, letting her cry it out -- and shedding a few tears of her own. Aveline, smiling fondly, moves back out of the way, satisfied that Hawke is in control of herself.

Merrill finally settles after nearly five minutes of crying, her breathing slowly evening out. "...sorry," she whispers, feeling a bit ashamed of doing that when it's _Hawke_ that should be being comforted by _her_.

"Don't be. Never be sorry, my love. I wanted nothing more than to comfort you for months." She tangles her fingers into Merrill's hair for a moment. "How about a bath?"

"...can I wash your hair?" Merrill peers up at Hawke with big, pleading eyes.

"Yes, alright," says Hawke quietly.

Merrill musters a slightly wobbly smile before pressing a kiss to Hawke's neck and stepping back. "Ready?" she asks gently.

Hawke swallows. "As ready as I can be."

She lifts the tunic, revealing the scar once more to them both. With quick, merciless motions, she unties her breastband, then hooks her thumbs into her leggings and lowers them as well. This, at last, reveals to Aveine what was meant by Hawke's comments about the nipple piercings being acceptable; looking closely, they can spy a small dimpled hole for a piercing at the top of Hawke's flower, and a line of others going down the outer petals. There is no jewelry in them, not anymore; she removed them when she started wearing tight leggings once more, and neglected to find smaller, more suitable replacements for everyday wear. But the marks show.

"You are still beauty in my eyes," Merrill says firmly after giving her wife a long, deliberate scan. "My heart aches for the pain you've suffered but I love you all the more for weathering it to come back to Clan."

"Well said," Aveline murmurs from where she's disrobing to the side.

Hawke shakes her head instantly her hand touching her belly scar briefly. "Not this one. Never this one." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Any other mark, any emotional wound, you may praise me for surviving, but not this one. This one bears only shame."

Merrill adopts a stubborn look. "I don't accept that," she say softly.

"You would if you knew how I got it," says Hawke, her eyes sliding aside from Merrill's face. To the best of the elf's ability to discern -- and Aveline's, for that matter -- Hawke not only means it (she always means the deprecating things she says, after all) but she's deeply, sickeningly ashamed of this story, this scar, to a degree she usually isn't.

Aveline catches Merrill's eyes from behind Hawke and the elf nods after a second. "Come on, let's start soaking," Merrill says quietly, reaching for Hawke's hand.

Hawke takes the hand, following her wife to the tub. She's meeker, now, as she climbs in; she keeps her gaze averted, toward the floor, and she sits beside Merrill without another word. _Breathe, Hawke. Focus. Don't slip back into bad habits._

Aveline slips into the bath just behind Hawke, taking Hawke's hand firmly between her own. "I want to talk about that scar, amata," she says quietly. "But I don't want to force you to talk about it if you're really not ready to do so."

"It's nothing good," she whispers. "Can't we just leave it be?"

"Do you really think Aveline or I could ever ignore a wound of yours?" Merrill asks, looking honestly baffled at Hawke's question.

"But it's done with. It's not bleeding. I'm going to have the scar removed. So why prod it now?"

"She doesn't mean the physical wound," Aveline corrects Hawke. "Which I'm sure you realized."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. She stares off into the distance, silent for a time; when she speaks, her voice is flat, monotone. "I left the room in which I was being kept, forgetting that I was safe there, bound by the rules of the Wager and guestrights. I sought a way out. I was careless, and was caught. I fought -- Silence fought -- we were bested. They held me down, cut me open, and took-- it doesn't matter. I was in agony for... it doesn't matter how long. Eventually I was rescued and put back in my room. I did not leave again."

"That... that sounds horrid," Merrill whispers, twisting in place to offer a hug.

Aveline sighs softly. "Thank you for... for opening up to us, amata," she says softly. "You're safe now. And... and I can't say you were wrong to try escaping. It was a risk, one that did not pay out. But if it had, then it would have been the right move. You couldn't have known for sure how it would end until you tried."

_But I wasn't trying to escape._ She can't say it, not with Merrill in the room. Instead, she confesses the lesser sin: "I left because... I thought I was going to lose. I thought that... I thought Anders would betray me, would fail. So many times, I gave up hope, I..."

_Is... is that why I was never..._ Merrill leans in, kissing Hawke's cheek, not able to find words right now.

"You're not perfect Hawke. Everyone doubts from time to time. You counted on us when it counted." Aveline slowly rubs Hawke's back, trying to sooth the younger woman. "You're too hard on yourself, my love."

"I don't understand how he didn't," she whispers. "There was nothing... it seemed like there was nothing wrong with the offer. He was falling for Karl. Why wouldn't he--? But he didn't. And when Isabela.... she walked away from the devil on the edge of agreeing, and came back with a flat no. I thought for sure she would... was she toying with him the whole time?"

"When was this?" Merrill asks quietly, suspecting she knows but wanting to be a bit more sure before offering her theory.

"I'm-- I'm not sure the dates. He offered for her to become a queen, a pirate queen, to leave Nyra and chase her dreams."

"What did you see people doing before and after?" Aveline prompts her.

"I could only see what he did, not anything else. It was after Gilly got expelled, but before Papa found Bartrand's lair."

"Zevran," Merrill says softly. "A little after Gilly was expelled, Isabela started packing all her things but shortly after Zevran came home, she put her things back."

Her shoulders slump; when she speaks, her tone is full of quiet awe. "Of course. Whenever there's a miracle, when someone succeeds from the brink of failure, it was always Clan. The whole of us is greater than any of us."

"Zevran was there for a lot of them," Merrill says carefully, eyes downcast. "He never wavered in his belief, not just in you, but in Helene and Astea."

Hawke shudders. "I-- I never thought he'd take Helene like that, I, it was a grave mistake."

"You did something, didn't you," Aveline asks gently, a slight frown forming as she tries to figure out what she's reading in Hawke's voice. "We couldn't figure out why the devil suddenly gave them back and stopped trying to contact Zevran. It was you, somehow."

Hawke nods. "I had to. I-- I traded-- I bought a favor from a lilin to recall him, and accused him of breaking the rules of the wager, and he had to change course. I gave him Helene's name to replace Zevran's so he couldn't hurt them anymore."

_Bought a favor from-_ Aveline can't stop her flinch, can't stop her hand from starting to reach for her shield. "Just when I think you're pure Astean, you do something even devout Vangalites would balk at without hesitation," the paladin says tightly. Merrill begins crying again, though she half-heartedly tries to hide it by pressing her face into Hawke's shoulder.

"It's-- I'm okay," the Astean whispers. "It wasn't so bad. She... it wasn't so bad."

_I'm not sure I could have done it. For you, yes. Maybe for Merrill or Zevran, now. But for someone you barely know? Someone whose connection, in all honesty, is second hand? I... don't think I could do it, not that._ "Well, you saved h- them," Aveline says, wincing at the near slip. "Even while captive, you were looking out for us."

Hawke nods. "I had to. Even if I could never come home, I had to protect the Clan." She winces a moment later. "I did intend to come home. That's why I made a bargain. I could have stayed there and never been home and not risked him hurting you but I.. I wanted a chance. Maybe that was selfish of me but..."

"Clan helps Clan," Aveline says quickly. "Every one of us would have agreed to help you, don't doubt that. We all made it through, we're all safe and... whole, albeit with some... damage," the paladin says carefully. "But we can heal, together. It won't be easy. What... what was done to you isn't something that'll just go away on its own or that can be washed away with a bit of magic. But we'll help you every step of the way." _If you let us..._

Hawke nods. "I-- I know. I know you want to help. I'm trying," she whispers. "I just... " Here she pauses to sigh. "I'll feel better once the scar is removed."

"I'll talk to Maeve tonight," Merrill says quickly. "I, ummm, I didn't think you'd like it if I told her much of what happened but we have, umm, talked a bit and she's worried about you. So she'll be glad to help, I'm sure."

"She-- what did you say?" asks Hawke, swallowing.

"Well, after we realized that Anders had been targeted, we realized that Astea meant all the Clan, not just the main or even secondary people," Aveline offers. "So we sent word to her about how you were missing, presumed taken. And we sent word after you got back, so people wouldn't still be... well, as worried at least."

Merrill nods a little. "After... after we got here, I... I needed to talk to her for... stuff about me," the elf hedges. "And of course she asked after you- she's really fond of you Hawke. But, umm, I don't know all of what happened and I knew you don't like... revealing your hurts, even to Clan, so I was vague about... details. Just that you were taken to the Hells and... held captive as part of a wager with a contract devil. That... that you were hurt. Emotionally and mentally, not... not so much physically."

Hawke's shoulders slump. "Ah. Of course. If you need to... yeah. Thank you. I-- Maeve was safe, but of course you had no way of knowing that. I named her to make him use up his veto." She gives a fond smile. "He was so angry when I named Aveline and he had no more vetoes left."

"Vetoes?" Aveline asks curiously.

"We negotiated - I would provide the list of names, but he got a couple of vetoes. So I named intentionally ridiculous ones first, to get him to use them all up."

"You... you named Maeve, a demigoddess as.." Aveline snickers a little. "Yeah, that would be a bit... challenging, especially given that she lives in the domain of her Father. Who else did you name?"

Hawke sinks down a little, mumbling something inaudible.

"...Hawke?" Merrill asks, sinking down along with her wife. "What did you say? 'A' what?"

She swallows, and repeats, a little louder: "Astea."

"...huh," Aveliune says dumbly as she stares at the back of Hawke's head.

Merrill tilts her head a little. "I suppose Astea is Clan, now that you point it out." Then she giggles. "She seems to agree, too, otherwise She wouldn't have responded personally to Helene's ritual."

"Uh-- yeah. Dae kind of... confirmed that," she says, quietly. "I uh. I didn't know that She reciprocated, I.. am still not sure how to feel other than humbled and honored." A brief pause. "Is this how Helene feels all the time?"

"...of course you did," Aveline mutters distractedly.

"Probably," Merrill chirps. "It was... nice, when She visited." The elf pauses, a very thoughtfully Merrill expression on her face. "I wonder if She'd be able to visit during the Grand Clan party Zevran mentioned... Where would we send the invite?"

"Bright Victoria," Hawke says, with that dazed firmness that implies she's so far out of her depth she's grasping at straws with bravado to make it stick. "That's Her representative in Nyra, after all. Kind of like Bodhan."

"That makes sense," Merrill says agreeably, nuzzling against Hawke.

Behind Hawke, the magus can just barely make out Aveline muttering, "that's the only thing that does in this conversation..."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I told him that... it all boils down to love. I love Astea deeply, and I have been in a relationship with her since I was a child. That makes Her Clan, and She agrees. My heart is stupid and wants what it wants, but it knows good people, and it knows who ought to be Clan."

"Makes perfect sense to me," Merrill says sweetly, pressing a light kiss to Hawke's shoulder.

Aveline sighs a little. "...I almost wish it didn't but..." _I'm so very lucky that Vangal and Astea have the connection they do, otherwise I would get more than a little opposition and concern from the church about... about how Astean I've become in recent years. It would be worth it though._ She blinks twice, realizing how protective she's feeling about not just Hawke but their relationship and laughs softly. "Worth every moment," she murmurs to herself.

Hawke rests her head on Merrill's shoulder. "Are we okay?" she asks quietly, after a moment.

Merrill pulls back so she can met Hawke's eyes, her own filled with worry and a bit of fear. _I knew it, I knew there was a reason why-_ "I- yes? Please yes? Why would- did I do something to-"

"You forgive me for taking so long to come back to you? For-- for hurting you on accident when I-- for being so distant and not letting you touch me and--?" Hawke's voice cracks, but she forces herself to keep her gaze on Merrill's eyes.

"Of course- I- you didn't hurt me anyway, I l-" Merrill cuts off at the underwater nudge from Aveline. "Yes. Always, my love, my wife. I love you, I forgive you everything you need forgiveness for," she says instead of trying to convince Hawke, again, that she'd liked what had happened so there's nothing to feel bad about. _I still don't think that you should feel bad about it. But Maeve had a point that it's not about what I thought of what happened, that it's about how Hawke felt. I suppose that just because I don't think there's anything Hawke could ask of me that I would refuse doesn't mean you shouldn't ask anyway._

Hawke nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Thank you. My love, my darling wife, thank you."


	30. Aftermath: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke finishes her business and goes home.

Days pass.

Hawke transitions from her leggings-and-tunic, chosen for simplicity and comfort when sleeping, to her more usual trousers and work shirts, then begins wearing her leather armor over top again. She starts dressing herself regularly, going out on walks with the canines and visiting with the townsfolk -- including Maeve, who is quite relieved to see her up and about and does not proposition her for sex after all. It's not the first time she's seen one damaged in this way.

The ritual is a fairly simple one, thanks to the advantages present due to Raplin: fast the night before, start at sunrise, finish at noon, Maeve does all the chanting and other work. The only downside is that it has to be done nude and will require a carefully prepared oil be applied to all the spots that need healing. A further complication is that, of those present, only Maeve and Merrill have both the skillset and the divine connection required for the ritual.

Still, Maeve might not be a paladin but she can quite literally lift both wives up by their necks and shake them at the same time so it's probably pretty safe. And Maeve is willing, provided both swear an oath of secrecy, to allow them to watch her prepare the oil so Hawke can be sure what's in it. Maeve also delicately informs Hawke that the oil has a sensation deadening affect- mostly because having your flesh flow and warp back to pristine is while not painful, very unsettling- so there won't be any reactions from the application process. Even then, Hawke almost backs out. After a brief, very cold moment, she accepts a tonic from Varric to take the edge off before the two healers start back in again.

The pair of them pull off the lengthy, expensive ritual that's worth every moment and copper, particularly once it's revealed that doing so "accidentally" removed her lower piercings as well. She gets tattoos added to her hawk: the moon above, shining down on the bird, and a flower in its talons. When it comes time to leave Raplin's Oak for the Robijin enclave, she doesn't yet ask about travel plans. In truth, she expects a long walk, a chance to get used to riding horseback and carrying her staff once more. When she comes downstairs on Zevran's arm and finds a familiar pirate wench waiting at their usual table, catching up with Varric over a mug of ale, she freezes in place, scarcely able to believe she's awake at all.

Zevran, bare chested at the moment to allow his own freshly inked back to air, beams at Isabela. He'd gone for the Tethras crest of course, on the small of his back, also holding a flower but in place of the moon is an intricate snowflake surrounded by a faint pink-gold glow. And if one looks carefully, they might notice how there are three lemniscate woven into the ice crystal's design. Merrill, being a bit afraid of needles but unwilling to be entirely left out, had gotten a small outline of the Tethras hawk on her right shoulder blade.

"There you two are! Was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed- it's nearly noon, you lazy slugs," Varric calls out with a wave. "Alright girls, stand down," he adds randomly- or at least, it seems so for a moment, until the two mabari enter the inn from where they'd been laying in wait incase Isabela ran for it. Or possibly to ensure Hawke didn't go out a window.

Or both.

"B-bela?" squeaks Hawke, hand tightening on Zevran's bicep.

"In the flesh," says Isabela, swinging her feet off the table and standing. She gives Hawke a careful once-over. "You look better. Not great, but better. Filled out some."

"Right charmer you are," Varric comments dryly. He'd given Isabela the basic primer on post-Wager Hawke of course, but 'bela be 'bela- if she was delicate and dainty, he'd have tested one of his two remaining 'special' bolts on her.

Zevran gently nudges Hawke forward, though he doesn't let go of her. "You seem rather windswept yourself," he observes lightly.

Hawke pries her fingers off Zevran, the spell broken. She moves forward, stopping several steps shy. "I-- are you staying?" Her voice is small, with a slight crack to it.

"Nope," says Isabela breezily, masking her hurt. _She thought I left, forever, didn't she?_ "I'm here to ferry you on to the Enclave, then I have about a week or so before I have to get on the winds again."

"O-oh," says Hawke, swallowing hard as she glances at her feet.

"Yeah, it's a real shame, but them's the breaks. I overindulged lazing around Nyra with my favorite people for too long to rest on my laurels now."

"I imagine you have a fair bit of backlog to catch up on before you can swing by home again?" Zevran says lightly. "Perhaps just as well, give my poor Voice time to recover from your... enthusiasm," he adds with an overdone eyebrow waggle.

"Sadly," the pirate laughs. "But next time I can make it back to Nyra, I plan to stay a good long while. A proper vacation, planned this time." A brief pause as she glances at Hawke; then, her voice softer, she adds, "assuming you'll have me." Hawke's only response is to close the distance between them, throwing her arms around the busty wench and squeezing her tightly.

Varric's eyes narrow and he studies Isabela carefully. _What're you up to, Flirty? It's clear as (pure) diamond that you've got something churning away in that head of yours. Or... Or maybe that heart of yours would be truer (gods, I've become such a sap)..._

"Have you eaten yet or just had something to clear the dust- clouds- from your throat?" Zevran asks lightly. "We were going to walk down to the café to see if they have any apple turnovers if you'd care to join us..."

"I'm always up for a good turnover."

\---

Just after breakfast the following day, the entire group- Seli, Andy, the twins, Zevran, Varric, Aveline, Merrill, Hawke, and the mabari board Isabela's Siren and head off towards the Enclave. Hawke has no sooner finished stowing her stuff in the room she'd be sharing with Aveline and Merrill when she hears her Papa say behind her, "so you're done moving your stuff in, we just had breakfast, you woke up not two hours ago, you don't have pressing plans- being on a tiny airship- and everyone else has been carefully distracted so you won't be able to jump on someone for a distraction."

Varric sets a bottle of rum on the table- they are on a pirate ship after all- and gives her a look. "So. Let's talk about what you're going to do when we arrive at Robijin. Where Tanna is."

"O-oh, I had, I'd forgotten that she's, ah..." she stammers, not making much effort to disguise her baldfaced lie. It's clear she's got a case of nerves as she sits, fumbling with the bottle's cork with shaking hands.

Varric gently takes the bottle from Hawke, then pours her a double finger's worth. "Sip," he orders her, tone gruff. "Take a few deep breaths, then a sip. Count to ten. Repeat until you run dry or you can focus again."

Hawke shakes her head, even as she does as her papa asks. "I'm alright," she says, after a moment, sounding steadier.

"I... could have broached this a little better but we're running out of time and you kept ducking this talk so... sorry," Varric says softly. "But we do need to have it. Now."

Hawke nods, taking another sip of rum. "What do you want to know?" she asks quietly, looking into her glass.

"What... No. Let's start with 'how' instead," he corrects himself. "How are you doing with... processing things in regards to... her?"

Hawke pulls her knees in closer to her body, swirling her drink. "I.. I don't know. Part of me hates her for what she did, but... she was only following her nature. I lay down with a snake, I cannot be surprised when it bit me."

"Maybe not but you can still be pissed at it," Varric points out blandly. "Still hate it."

"I'm not," she sighs. "I love her. She's Clan. I'm just... hurt, a little, and I know it's irrational to be so."

"What? No, I think most people would be hurt by what happened to you. A lot hurt for that matter," Varric disagrees. "I wasn't really expecting you to know exactly how you're feeling yet to be honest."

"So what are the rules?" She doesn't ask what he wanted to talk about, nor does she try to pretend this is a negotiation.

Varric sighs a little. "You do get to share your thoughts on this, daughter mine."

"Would it matter? I don't want Tanna punished. I just want to ask her some questions, for my own peace of mind. But I am sure you disagree."

"Not... really," Varric replies with as shrug. "Oh, I'd rather like for her to be punished," he admits, waving off her possible disagreement. "But I'm... able to tolerate her simply being... what's the word? Rehabilitated- that's it."

"Really? Withou--" She cuts herself off, bows her head. "Understood," she says instead.

"...Hawke..." Varric says warily. "Please... finish those thoughts out loud for me?"

She shakes her head. "It was mean. There's no call for that."

"I like mean. Shows grit. Share with the class," Varric coaxes her.

She winces. "I was just... I speculated that.. you might... prefer to shoot her."

"Well... yes," Varric admits. "Rather a lot. But... That doesn't mean I will. Or even that I should. So. What do you want with... meeting her again?"

Hawke sighs, swirling her glass. "What do you think would be wise, Papa?" she asks quietly.

"I asked you first," he parries.

She shakes her head. "I don't... I don't trust my judgement," she says quietly.

"Well, you're not deciding, you're talking it out with me. Say what you'd what and we can talk it over," Varric coaxes her.

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "She's Clan," she says quietly. "I want to be sure she's happy. That she's not... suffering too badly."

Varric nods slowly. "I can... see that," he tentatively. "I... Well, I don't really, entirely get why," he confesses. "But I understand you do. And Aveline agrees for whatever reason," he adds in a mutter. "So. So we focus on rehabilitation instead of punishment. Which... from what I understand of the matter, means she needs positive reinforcement from time to time. Like a visit from you. So. It's on the table."

"Thank you, papa," she whispers, her eyes brimming with tears.

Varric coughs a little, then sips his rum. "Yes, well. There'd be rules o'course. Safety stuff. She'll be secured, we'll all be there, armed for combat, and so forth. Aveline will have a protection spell on you to prevent mind magics and you won't touch here, just in case of drugs." He shrugs. "I'll work something up and we can work that out later. Won't happen the first day regardless."

 _Won't touch her? Secured, with armed guards?_ She swallows back her misgivings, nods, takes a sip of her rum.

"You're fine with all of that?" he prods.

Her body betrays her -- she shakes her head, just a hair, before she can stop herself. One short jerk; she plays it off like a twitch, and says aloud, in a whisper, "yes, Papa."

Varric sighs a little, then reaches into his vest to pull out a vial. She glances up, eyes widening in alarm. Still, she swallows, lowering her gaze just after. He drinks the infusion, then looks over at her. "Well?"

 _Don't make a scene. Stay quiet. Be good. Papa's judgement is better than yours, he knows best. Just let Papa decide._ She looks down at her glass, swirling it miserably.

"Hawke... you're better than that," he says quietly. "I want you to give your opinion about this- wouldn't have asked otherwise. You know me, I'm not really one for wasting time, am I?"

 _No. Don't make a scene. Trust your Clan. We'll get through this._ She raises the glass to her lips, takes a sip. _(I hate that stupid potion) Trust Papa. Let him be in charge._

"Infusion," Varric corrects her fussily. "Hawke, please talk to me. I don't like having to use this either but if you won't talk to me- or be honest about what you're feeling- then..."

"I don't like it," she says softly. _Not any of it. I hate it. She saved me, held me together, and we reward her with suspicion and chains and armed guards, as if she were an enemy. (She hurt me.) As if I were weak and couldn't protect myself and nobody trusted me not to do anything risky. (She drugged me...) Verraline was right, they'll never accept our love, they'd never accept me if they knew (Stop it, shut up) they'd never accept her as Clan._

 _Bright Gods, Hawke (I should have done better). Heart's all twisted up, turned against you. I'm sorry we can't trust you right now (never forgive myself, not all the way). I wish I knew how to help you (daughter mine) but there's no perfect plan, not for this. Still. First step first. Make it plain._ Varric takes a long, deep breath. Then a longer, deeper drink of rum. "Hawke. Out. Loud," he says in a hard voice. " _Now_."

"Yes, Papa." Maybe the scariest part is the lack of thought echo: the lack of intentionality before she agrees. He uses that tone and she agrees before she can even really register that he has. _Don't be this way. Be better. Be Hawke, not Little Bird._ It's clear the thoughts are directed at herself, not at him. "I don't-- I don't want to make her feel unwelcome," she manages, in a raspy whisper.

"Thank you," Varric whispers, sagging against his chair just a second before he corrects himself. "I can understand that. I'm not... I'm not comfortable with just... letting you two... chat all casual like. But," he says rapidly, firmly. "We can compromise. Curvy can check her over before you met, make sure she's clean. Still limited contact but a bit of hand holding, maybe a hug hello... fine. I won't insist on chains or anything, but everyone will be there, armed, but... we'll at least try and not look like guards. Will you agree to protective spells, as long as they're non-aggressive?"

Hawke nods. "Yes," she whispers. "Protective magic, yes. It's subtle but it makes a good safety net."

"Okay. Good then. Anything you want or not want?" he asks, voice a trifle eager. _Come on Hawke, please..._

 _I don't know. How am I supposed to know before I see her, before I sort this out in my heart? It'll be just like--_ "Rosemary," she says aloud, recalling she's meant to be speaking. "I-I mean, I want to..." The thought blooms a bare moment before she speaks it: something she's turned over, something long familiar and easy at hand for the topic change. "I want to pay for a Regeneration for Rosemary."

"I- What now?" Varric asks, caught off step. "Rosemary?"

She nods. "I-- I don't know how to feel about Tanna. But Rosemary didn't deserve what I did to her. I want to find her and make it right." There's a tone, or maybe a look in her eyes. Something subtle, yet unmistakable. Hero zi'Hawke, it would seem, has finally made it home.

"You didn't... Guess it doesn't matter I made the judgement really," he says softly. "Alright, I'll ask around and find her. Do... do you- no, I'll just ask: how do you want to play it after she's found?"

Hawke opens her mouth, then shuts it again. _I hadn't thought that far ahead. I just keep lying awake at night thinking about the wrong I did. I have to fix it._ "I should apologize."

Varric nods easily. "Apology and you mentioned a regeneration ritual," he muses. "I guess it'd be poor logic to try and plan any further ahead until you know what she's up to."

Hawke nods. "Right. Exactly." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. _He agreed... just like that? Maybe I should have asked sooner. Maybe I should ask for more. (what's with him and Aveline?) (no, nevermind, I don't want to be in the middle of that) I should focus on Tanna. What do I want from Tanna? (love me, my Lady, please stay) I just want to see her again. I just want to know, now that there's no oil and no-- I just want to know._ "It's much the same with Tanna."

"I assume you mean that you want to get more information on her progress before deciding and not that she needs a regeneration ritual," Varric says wryly. _(Astea) Gods, did she really think that she wasn't (capable) allowed to have... of course she did, you stupid dwarf. **Idiot**._

"I want to.. I want to talk to her," she says quietly. _What if she rejects me what if it was all a lie what if she never loved me at all (Dae said she did) what if she hates me now (what if she bursts into tears and apologizes) what if I don't love her anymore (what if I do)_ "I can't decide what else until I talk to her."

Varric nods slowly. "I... I guess it'd be hard to decide in advance," he allows. "I'll... when we arrive, we can talk with Curvy and see how Tanna has... progressed." _Or hasn't._ "We can come back to this talk then."

"Do you have..." _advice, suggestions, did I do this right, am I taking the right path, am I okay, are we okay?_ "any suggestions?" she finishes, her voice faltering a little.

Varric takes a moment to sip his rum. "I think you're doing fine," he finally says. "Just... keeping talking with Clan and... work on recovering... this," he says awkwardly. "Deciding for yourself. Seek advice, sure, but... you've a good head on those shoulders, daughter mine, and you should use it."

 _Papa approves of me,_ she thinks, with a faint blush. _I hope I don't let him down (again)._ "Thank you."

"...you're my daughter," he says gruffly, slipping into dwarven. "It's what Papa's do."

\---

The rest of the trip goes well, with Hawke spending most of her time reconnecting with Isabela, as the pirate captain wouldn't be able to stay for long after getting them to the Enclave. She even manages to have a perfectly pleasant night with Isabela, with Aveline on the other side of her anyway. Nothing _too_ interesting occurs, given that the paladin isn't nearly close enough to Isabela for that, but it is still very good for the pair. And it's not like any of them are going entirely without, as Zevran spends the other nights with Isabela, Merrill joining in once as well. Aveline had already supervised a few bouts for Hawke and Zevran before leaving Raplin's Oak; Zevran had returned the favor the once so far, though Aveline had still been a bit uncomfortable being so... exposed around the merikos drow. Worth it though- she might have the lowest sex drive of all of Hawke's lovers, but she does have one, and it'd been about half a year since their last time together.

Their arrival at Robijin is a warm one, with Estelle and Claudia both very relieved to see Hawke whole and healing. The rest of the party gets a more mixed reception, with more than a few dark looks tossed at both Aveline and Merrill, though there is fear in many of the former and avarice in many of the later. Estelle rather publicly _greeting_ Merrill puts a damper on those looks, and Aveline seems unruffled by the attention her obvious holy symbols are drawing. Varric seems rather amused by how casually Estelle treated the paladin's presence, clearly approving of how she's instantly snapped up the chance to make herself more impressive by not being afraid of the Vangalite. Or at least not showing it.

Estelle leads Hawke, Aveline and Merrill to her room, Claudia having kidnapped Varric and Helene to show off her lab, Zevran trailing along to make sure they don't create a world destroying device or something. Once they're inside her rooms, Estelle turns to face Hawke with a sheen of tears in her eyes. "God Hawke, it's so good to see you in person. Hearing your voice just isn't enough, not after..."

Hawke lifts her fingers to Estelle's face, gently wiping away tears with the backs of two fingers. "I missed you too, Estelle. Gods, I missed you." Her voice cracks a bit, but she still holds herself apart, gazing into Estelle's face instead of embracing her.

Estelle rocks towards Hawke, having to rather visibly stop herself from grabbing the smaller woman and holding her close. "You... you may touch me as you like," she whispers hoarsely. "I'd very much like to hold you."

Aveline smiles faintly, feeling yet another reservation she has about Estelle quietly fade. _It's very clear that she does love Hawke. Not just infatuation or lust, not even just affection or care. She loves our wondrous Hawke._

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Alright. But-- please, be gentle." That said, she steps forward, into Estelle's embrace, resting her head on the drow's shoulder.

Estelle shudders slightly as she wraps her arms around Hawke. "I know," she whispers, eyes dark and enraged as she stares over Hawke's shoulder, though her voice stays soft and warm. _I know exactly what my new toy did to you. And only my love for you is keeping me from torturing the **bitch** so badly that even her sceleratis mind shatters._ "No games, not with you, not for a long while. Just... just this, just touching you, loving you."

"Maybe..." she begins, in a small, timid voice. "Maybe not so long as all that. Maybe... not this trip. But soon. Someday soon. I-- I'm working really hard on-- I don't want to lose that. You. Or the games. I want to be able to..." She takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Good," Estelle says firmly. "You shouldn't let that bi- let that be taken from you. Don't push yourself too hard but... don't let what happened diminish your future either. We can go slow. Just holding you is enough for now. Maybe we can do more before you leave, but if not, there's plenty of time." She presses a kiss to the top of Hawke's head.

Merrill bites her lip, then timidly offers, "maybe... just an idea but maybe watching... stuff might be easier? Instead of doing things yourself first, start with... watching?"

Hawke immediately stiffens, knowing exactly what Merrill is offering. "Y-yes," she stammers. "But not yet. When I'm r-ready."

"Of course," Merrill says quickly, ducking her head in embarrassment. "I didn't... it was just an idea," she adds quietly.

Estelle starts rubbing Hawke's back gently as she says, "and not a bad one. That's not an uncommon step in helping people recover from trauma. But later. Right now... perhaps we could cuddle on the sofa? The four of us?"

"I'd like that." She smiles a little, then swallows, her smile fading. "And-- you can tell me about... your guest."

Estelle's mouth twists into a half-sneer before she smooths it back down. _Estelle, stop it. She's... she's not what she was. Damnit, why did I make her tell me everything she'd done the day before Hawke arrived? Stupid girl_. "We... we can speak of Nasceria if you like," she hedges. "But I'd like to hear about you and how you're doing as well." Estelle steps back from Hawke so she can lead the merikos elf to the sofa. She pauses, then glances over at Aveline.

The paladin offers a smile as she takes a seat. "Hawke between, Merrill atop?" she suggests.

Hawke nods, squishing in beside Aveline and letting the others arrange themselves. "Nasceria, is it?" she says quietly. "As for me, I'm doing... as well as can be expected. Better every day. Getting used to touch again, having fewer nightmares, fewer flashbacks."

"It comes from the word 'birth' or 'to arise,'" Estelle explains as she sits down, lifting Hawke's lets so they drape over her lap. "It... I doubt it'll be her real use name, she's... well, it serves for now. I'm glad that you're working on welcoming touch again. I... I would hate for you to lose that." _It's far from the only thing anymore, but your views on sex and touch, how close they are to drowish, is one of the things that drew me to you at first._

Merrill waits for Hawke to settle in, then clambers next to Estelle, squeezing in so her top half is laying between Hawke's legs. Aveline looks a bit taken aback at the four-woman pile she's become a part of but just shakes her head a bit ruefully.

Hawke nods, reaching to stroke Merrill's hair. "I won't. Whatever it takes. Clan is important, and I... I bond through touch."

"Yes you do," Estelle says dreamily, voice a trifle husky before she clears it. "Sorry. I just... I'm much the same way and... it's hard to not... I refuse to rush you."

Aveline shifts so she can rub Hawke's shoulder. "Cuddling, as long as you don't surprise her, is something she's normally up for," she offers. "Hawke's just as good at that as... other things."

Oddly enough, Hawke tenses, taking a moment to get her breathing under control, to push away whatever memory gripped her in response to Aveline's words (or her touch? Hard to tell from the outside). All three of the other go still, then deliberately force themselves to untense, watching the hero. "Yes," she breathes, a few moments later, when she can manage words again. "I-- I enjoy--"

"Hawke, what's wrong?" Aveline asks carefully, slowly lifting her hands.

She shakes her head. "A memory. I'm fine."

"What... what prompted it to surface?" Aveline presses.

"I--" She swallows, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I was going to make a joke. The joke reminded me of-- it doesn't matter what."

"Of course it matters," Merrill says softly. "It hurt you. And you matter. So it matters."

Estelle strokes Merrill's stomach, not bothering to avoid private areas though she doesn't target them. "She's correct but at the same time, if you're not ready to speak on it, it can wait. But you do need to face it in time, mio amato falco."

Aveline blinks, giving Estelle a somewhat startled look at the endearment. _...family trait?_

 _They don't want to know how I taught Tanna to cuddle, how she liked it, how it made her feel safe. I made her feel safe. And they don't need to know the sick fear that brings me now, the twisting feeling of betrayal and pain, the guilt I still feel for leaving her behind in the Hells and the guilt I feel for bringing her here._ "It's nothing new," she says quietly. "I was just caught off guard."

Aveline sighs a little as she presses a kiss to Hawke's neck. "I suppose, in a way, I'm glad you were because that means you're feeling comfortable enough with us to let your guard down in the first place."

 _It's... amazing and... painful, to see this. To know you think of yourself as weak, as... unworthy and helpless. And yet you've come so far after being hurt so badly. My aunt was a captive for only a single week, though admittedly it was... more intense for the most part, but she shattered while you have healed. You're so much stronger than you realize, Hawke._ Estelle's eyes widen as she realizes she'd said that last sentence out loud.

"Strong," Hawke says bitterly. _I was strong last time I came here. Now I'm broken._

"Even the mountains can be broken," Estelle says gently. "But you're repairing the cracks. That's strength too."

Hawke sighs. "How is she?" She asks quietly, clearly trying to change the subject.

Estelle hesitates, not sure how to answer that after yesterday's questions. _Best to pretend I hadn't had that... chat... with Nasceria,_ she decides. _For today at least._ "She is... confused, I think is the single best word for Nasceria right now. Whatever you did to her it... she's not... you changed her. You changed the fundamental nature of an outsider. I don't..." She shakes her head.

"It was a miracle," she says softly. "Literally. I asked. I uh... I was advised not to do it again."

"I'll admit that I've never even heard of an outsider coming close to changing, not while remaining the same... being. I've heard of outsiders being... consumed to fuel the creation of something else but never-"

Estelle cuts Aveline off. "No, I don't think you entirely appreciate what Hawke did, any of you. Outsiders are a concept made flesh. That link doesn't just end when they're made. By turning Nasceria away from evil, you've... not changed but allowed for the possibility that the concept she was made from to change. You've literally made the entire world less evil on a fundamental level. Or, well, given it the chance to be that way," the drow admits. "It's not a guarantee and it's not on a scale that any mortal will ever notice but..."

Hawke nods. "If I could do it again, I would. If it was at all physically possible." _If my soul would be consumed **after** I managed it...._

"Hawke!" All three of them shout, though Merrill's is more yelp.

Aveline takes a deep breath, but is still the first to speak. "As you said- and Bright Dae as well- you can't do it again. So I'm not going to... belabor the point. Are we?" she adds, giving the other two a look. Merrill scowls a little, crossing her arms but doesn't comment.

"...fine," Estelle mutters. "I'll just say that I'm glad you can't. Fuck the petty details of the world, I prefer you."

Hawke nods. "I... it's selfish, but I'm kind of glad too. I know I'd still do it, if I could, but I'm glad I can't. I'm glad I can be with you instead."

Estelle smiles warmly, averting her eyes to give herself a little space. She's no Varric, but Estelle is used to keeping her emotions hidden and in check. "Yes, well. Speaking of Nasceria... she's not aware you're here yet. I wasn't sure if... if I should tell her. She..." the drow trails off, unsure of how to proceed.

Hawke swallows. "Yes, you should--" She takes a deep breath, lets it out, tries to let the momentary fear go. "Sorry. I don't know how she'll... what she likes. I-- I don't like people keeping my loves away from me while I recover, or trying to.... to use that to keep me to themselves. It makes me... twitchy."

"Oh. I was- I wasn't trying to..." Estelle winces. "Alright, maybe a little of that. But I was mostly... I wanted to know if you wanted to talk to her before I told her. If you didn't want to see her, then I wasn't going to... get her hopes up, I suppose. But if you want to speak with her, then I will. She'll... she'll ask about you... what do you want me to tell her?"

Merrill's pout deepens to a scowl, but she stays silent at Aveline's glare.

"I will. Of course I will." She tries for a smile, though it looks a bit sickly. "I even convinced Papa not to chain her up for it."

Estelle tilts her head. "Whyever not? She doesn't mind them," the drow asks honestly, getting a choked noise from the paladin.

"Because he wouldn't have meant sexy things by it. And it's cruel to restrict her freedom like that." Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out. "If she wants to hurt me, she doesn't need her claws for that."

"Hurt you enough already," Merrill says darkly, the memory of a memory haunting her. _Papa may have made me forget but I still... I still remember how I felt after seeing what I did. And I remember that I hate this stupid Nasceria bitch. I hate her more than anyone ever._

"She... she actually seems very... Well, she's discovered guilt," the drow says with a wince. "And she seems to... get some measure of relief out of being punished. Not just... not just in games. Not mostly in games."

Hawke nods. "I sent her to you because... I knew, out of anyone, you would understand her best. Your-- Drow have dealt with her kind for eons, and you have another of her kind to speak to if you need insight. I knew I could trust you to be fair and do what's needed."

Estelle laughs weakly. "I... I'm afraid you have more faith in me that I feel I deserve but... I'll try. Do, umm... do you have any specific questions or should I just... ramble?"

"Is she..." A deep breath. Hawke looks down at her twitching hands. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I can't make any promises like that," Estelle says gently. "But... she seems to be doing okay. It's still very early yet. A lot of what she's doing now is just playing a role. She knows I'm Clan, knows that I talk to you so she's trying to... impress me, I suppose, so I'll give a good report and please you. But... some of it is becoming habit, I think. And the things we do repeatedly become a part of us. In theory anyway, I've never done this before, not with a sce- previously sceleratis."

Hawke nods, still staring at her hands. Finally, in a small voice, she says, "Does she... hate me? For... for what I did?"

Merrill growls softly, then sits up so she's only resting against Estelle. "Ummm... no?" the drow says, somewhat distracted by the shifting elf. "She's not expressed as such at least, not a hint."

Some tension flows out of Hawke's shoulders. _I don't deserve that, if she has forgiven me. There's still a chance she's hiding it well but... maybe there's hope, too._ "Thank you. Is there-- anything I should know?"

Estelle considers that a moment, absently pulling Merrill over so she's reclining in the curve of her arm. "She's... dependant on you. All of her motivation to grow and chance, all of her willingness to play by the rules and mores here... it's all based on you. I'm not sure if... if it's the right thing, for you, to... encourage- or even allow- that, but she needs it," she admits reluctantly.

Hawke nods. "Then-- then, for her, I can try to be a hero. Not a..." _little bird._ "Whatever I am now." She glances up, finally, spying Merrill in the crook of Estelle's arm. She rests her hand on her wife's knee, gently. _There are things I can try... if I can find that book again, perhaps..._

Merrill doesn't pull away- that's not in her- but she does look away.

"That... sounds okay," Aveline says warily. "It would be good for you to... get that part of you back, though I'd be happier if you did for more than just... one person, whoever they are."

Hawke starts. "Oh, did-- Sorry, I thought you knew. I uh. I stood up to Papa, on the way here."

Aveline coughs a little. "Did you?" she asks after a moment. "What about?"

"Uh." Suddenly Hawke realizes the flaw in her plan. She rubs the back of her head, fingers entangled in her short hair. "Stuff."

"Stuff?" Estelle says lightly as she rubs Merrill's arm lightly. "Sounds... interesting. I'd love to hear about it."

She blushes, glancing toward Merrill. "Some other time?"

Thankfully, Merrill still has her eyes locked on the far wall and misses the look. "...if you say it's not relevant, then I suppose we can speak of other matters," Estelle says lightly, though her expression is faintly disapproving. "Did you have any other questions about Nasceria?"

"No. I... let's all cuddle, for a bit? This, today, has been hard and I just need..."

"Alright, amata," Aveline says gently. "Just cuddling and... perhaps we can talk about our recent trip to Raplin's Oak," she suggests.

"That sounds nice," Merrill agrees, tone still a hair sullen. _Better than talking about Bitch some more._

\---

Weeks pass, as Hawke continues to mend, both herself and her bonds with her Clan. Twenty days into their visit, Hawke is finally up for watching a light game between Merrill and Estelle. Zevran is also there, though he sits with Hawke to help her remain centered instead of participating in the soft bondage and dominance game. It doesn't last very long, however, before they have to stop because Hawke can't stop herself from wanting to defend Merrill. Aggressively. A few days later, they try again, this time with a willing drow volunteer, one of Estelle's regular playmates, which goes much better. Thankfully, Merrill seems to take it well, more pleased at being worried over than annoyed her game was stopped.

If only because she was able to resume the game, a much longer one, later that evening.

Shortly after that, Varric finally pulls Hawke aside just before lunch. "How you doing today?" he asks a touch bluntly, looking her over carefully. And also missing a good half-hand sized spot of hair on the side of his head.

"Better," she says at once. _Is it time?_

"..." Varric sighs a little. _Guess I shouldn't have expected the 'mention me' Estelle passed on to be even close to enough (duh)._ "It's... Better is good." He debates for all of a second about whether he wants to ease into this but... one look at her face and he realizes it'd be a fool's game. "After lunch enough time or do you need until tomorrow to be ready to talk to Nasceria?"

"Yes," she says rapidly, sitting up straighter. "Thank you. I-- yes. Today."

That gets a wry smile. "Alright. Me, Aveline and Zevran will be there, along with Estelle of course. Plus, we have a half a dozen or so defensive spells to cast on you. But we can skip the chains." _Or bars, shackles, or other ideas I had._ "Thoughts?"

Hawke nods. "Are any of the spells something I might object to? Because I'm inclined to trust you on that."

"Protections against mental influence, fire, cold, poison, electricity and other such things," he says with a shrug. "I can't imagine why you'd object to any of them. Well, the shock ward will buzz her pretty good, but only if she wounds you, so..."

Hawke nods. "No gags or the like, either. The point is to speak with her. And... if I deem it safe, I want to be free to touch her."

Varric purses his lips. "Touching... how about touching under my house rules?" he offers. _I'll just have the lilin (does she still count as that?) searched and cleaned prior. Use my toxin divination to scan her just prior... yeah, it'll be fine (better be)._

She nods. "I am not-- there's not going to be any sex. Not... not now."

"I didn't expect you to... that, but... light kissing and such as well," he says awkwardly. _There's more than one reason why I want to be there._ "Anyway. I'd like it if you wore your gear, though Zevran can hold your staff if you don't want to be armed."

Hawke nods. "I'll go armed. It will give a... I want her to get the full impression of me." _In case there's trouble. Gods, I hope I can pull this off. But I think she'll respond better to this plan than me how I am, just yet._

 _Oh. Huh._ "Can't say I disagree with that," he says quickly. "Be good for her to see the Champion side of you, I think. You... want any other conditions or... prep done?"

Hawke shakes her head. "Just, please... follow my lead? Trust me, a little? If I start acting strange, definitely break us up, but... I... I need to do this my way, however this happens."

Varric hesitates, for longer than he'd be proud of admitting. "... would.. What if I use my detect thoughts infusion? So I don't jump the mark? You'll be shielded so it'd be for her."

Hawke chews her bottom lip, thinking this over. Finally, she says, her voice quiet but firm, "If she consents. But if she doesn't consent, I'll keep that in mind when talking to her and deciding if she's safe to touch."

Varric considers this for a moment, then smirks a little. "The topic might not be what I'd like, but it's good to see your shrewd and stubborn side coming out," he says almost fondly. "Alright. That sounds workable. I'm going to let..." He winces. "I'm not going to fight Aveline on taking point on the actual talk. She's being... insistent that I follow her lead for once."

Hawke hesitates, shifting a little. "Should... I be asking what's between you two? I've not been... ready to take that on yet but.."

Varric winces a little. "...you have the right to know if you want," he says slowly, thus confirming it's about her in some way. "But we're working it out if you don't want to add anything else to your plate." _Bit ashamed about it, so I wouldn't exactly mind not telling you (want you to look up to me) about it... that I lost more than I won (ground wise, probably for the best) in the dispute doesn't help._

Hawke nods slowly. "If you.. need help working it out, please let me know?"

"Alright," he says softly. "It's mostly handled by now anyway. So. There's that." The dwarf coughs a little. "Anyway. You're okay with... the setup?"

She nods again. "Just... please try to remember that I still love her. As far as I can tell, I always will."

"...it's not _your_ love I'm worried about being... untrue," he explains softly.

She can't help but flinch, and worse, the temperature cools subtly. "I-- I know. It's... I'm aware that it's... a distinct possibility." Her voice is a rough whisper.

Varric winces as well. "Sorry, that's... I know Aveline believes you, believes that the two of you are in love. That it's... real. But it's hard to trust that. Hard to... be sure that even if she loves you, that she won't..." He shakes his head. "Not your problem, it's mine. You just focus on.. being ready to talk to Whatever-Her-Name-is-Today."

Hawke nods. "One way or another, we get answers today."

\---

Varric and Zevran are in the back, not quite hiding in shadows but out of direct line of sight. Aveline is much more visible, standing in full armour, shield in hand though weapon still on her belt, just behind the perhaps overly warded Hawke. The room itself fairly nice to be honest- clearly a meeting room, not a prison cell or other such place. There's a small oval table made of slate in the center, doors on each side of the room to allow both parties to leave without crossing the midpoint and a light repast on the bronze trays.

Toren arrives first, stepping into the room and glancing around to be sure they're ready. Getting the nod, he steps back out to allow the other two entrance. Estelle streams into the room, dressed to the nines in her Lady Emerison mode, though she hadn't worn the soft leather cat-o-nine on her belt in Nyra. A few steps behind her comes... Is that really Verraline?

The female that enters after Estelle does has a lilin's wings and a tail. Subtle horns. But her hair is silver, not black, her skin a soft grey color, not a light red. Her feet are humanoid instead of partially cloven and her eyes are a vibrant golden amber instead of the hard, almost sickly yellow they had been. She's not wearing what most would call clothing, instead having silver chainmail that clings to her from neck to midthigh, a heavy lock prominently displayed on the small of her back. Which Hawke is able to see, as she sinks to her knees, facing Estelle, as soon as the drow sits.

Despite this, her eyes never leave her little bird.

Hawke stares at the devil's new form, recognizing her despite the changes. That face, those eyes, the way she _looks_ at Hawke... images assault her brain, images she doesn't dare dwell on, can't do anything but shove down and away. Verraline. Her Lady. Her lover. Verraline.

Hawke stills, watching her, waiting, her mouth dry.

Estelle waits a bit, silently offering to let Hawke speak first. When the magus stays silent as well, the drow offers a smile. "Hawke. How was lunch?" she asks, trying to keep her tone light and casual. _Just... taking my pet devil slash rehabilitation project slash miracle for a walk, meeting up with a friend... normal stuff..._

At her side, Nasceria doesn't so much as breath, just sits there, still, head slightly tilted to the side so she can stare at Hawke out of the corner of her eye.

Hawke can't help herself; the best she can do is stay silent, mouthing 'Lady' without giving it voice. She swallows, trying again, hands shaking. "Are you... well?" she asks, her eyes still fixed on the lilin.

Estelle starts to reply, then runs a hand their her hair. "Nasceria, you're allowed to speak," she says instead, voice gentle. After another moment of silence, the drow turns and reaches down to lift the lilin's head up. "Nasceria..." she prompts her.

Swallowing, hard, the lilin sucks in a rough breath and then fails to reply. Twice. Finally, she blurts out, "you're alive."

 _You didn't think I would be. Oh, Verraline..._ "I won the Wager," she whispers. "I got to go home." She takes a deep breath, then, straightening, one hand gripping her staff until her knuckles go white. "Did you know they'd take me back? Did you suspect?" Her voice is still quiet, but there's a harsh edge to it now.

"I know. I just... hearing about you isn't the same as... seeing," Tanna says softly. She licks her lips, hunching her shoulders. "I... I was afraid they would. I... I can't... I l-love you but I don't... I still don't understand... I just... I'm a devil, we... we take and own. I just... The idea of l-losing you, of n-n-not h-having you, I couldn't..."

Estelle clears her throat softly. "One of the rules of our agreement is that she is not allowed to lie, directly or indirectly, unless I order her to do so or we're in a game."

"Did you know you were hurting me?" The question surprises her on the way out; it comes out a guttural, almost harsh whisper. She fights back tears, refusing to cry in front of her, refusing to seem weak. "Did you mean to?"

"...I thought that it would.. that I would..." She shudders a little, her posture sagging with defeat. "Yes. I knew and I meant to do what I did. I didn't want to hurt you but I wanted the results it would bring," she whispers brokenly.

 _You wanted me broken. Wanted me to be your toy. Lady, why...?_ Hawke takes a deep breath, fighting to get her mouth under control again. More firmly, she says, "One of my Clan wants to use magic to read your mind. Do you consent?"

The lilin tenses. "...do you wish it?" she asks softly, head still bowed.

Hawke waits a moment, collecting her thoughts. When she speaks, her voice is firmer, more dignified. _Be strong. Be the Clan Matriarch. Remember what that book said._ "I have to balance the needs of my Clan, and sometimes that means one against the other. This sort of treatment is invasive and often humiliating. But while Trust is a virtue, and one of the Clan words, trust has to be earned, and you have done much to destroy any trust I had in you. So yes, I wish it. In this one instance, I would like you to consent -- honestly consent. If you cannot do that, I won't push you into it."

"...you told me that there's no debts between Clan. I can't..." She finally glances up at Hawke, just for a second. "I might not... I wish I could believe that counts for me. But I owe you this and more and... Yes. I consent. If it helps you at all, I consent." Not changing her expression, Estelle strokes the lilin's horn gently, trying to offer comfort. Or perhaps support is more accurate.

Not wasting time, Varric swiftly imbibes the infusion, even as he makes a mental note of how Hawke feels about this little spell. And avoids meeting Aveline's pointed look.

"There are no debts between Clan," Hawke confirms. "And-- and you are Clan, still, despite everything. I claimed you and I refuse to reject you now." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "There are no debts, but there is gratitude. And... there are no debts, but there is harm and there is restitution and there is justice." She swallows, her task complete, and struggles to hang onto that firmness, that surety, as she asks her next question. "Are you being treated well? I know-- Estelle told me you're being rehabilitated, but this isn't meant to be any punishment or vengeance or anything like that."

"I _want_ to be," Nasceria says quickly. "Punished. I... It hurts, what I did... to you. I... That's what happens when you... do wrong. You're punished. I need..." She goes silent, body curling in on itself slightly.

"Nasceria is still very... orderly in how she thinks, in how she wishes things to be," Estelle says softly. "She needs order and rules to function. Cause and effect. She just struggles to find out where she falls in those rules."

"This?" snaps Hawke. "This torment, this misery, this feeling that you can never make it right, this overwhelming knowledge that everything is wrong and you can never ever make it up and there's not enough punishment in the world to fix it? This is your punishment. Anything else on top of that is just cruelty." She takes a deep breath, jamming her free hand into a pocket to hide the shaking. _Rosemary, I'm so sorry._ Aveline reaches out to rest a hand on Hawke's back, taking care to keep it discreet and light.

"It h-helps," Nasceria protests weakly. "D-doesn't it? If... if I suffer, it... it makes it... balanced. Mortals f-feel better when those that h-h-hurt them suffer..."

"No. I don't want you to suffer." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You're my Clan," she says, her voice gentler. "And my lover and--" A deep, ragged breath. "Even though you hurt me, so badly, I still... I still..." Nasceria lets out a soft keening noise, pressing her face into Estelle's leg.

"Give her a minute Hawke," Varric says softly, rubbing his temple.. "She's not able to... listen right now."

Hawke nods, turning to Aveline behind her and resting her head against her shoulder. She keeps her back straight, keeps her hand on her staff, but she allows herself the small comfort of touching, of smelling, of knowing Aveline is there with her. _Clan. Safe. Home._ Aveline keeps her gaze on the devil as she comforts Hawke, though her eyes are surprisingly compassionate for someone that hurt Hawke so badly.

"What do I do?" Nasceria finally chokes out. "If- if you don't want me to suffer for what I did, I don't... what do I do?"

 _Time's up._ Hawke takes a deep breath, reveling in Aveline's scent for one more moment, then turns back as she lets it out, facing Tanna with compassion and pain in her eyes. "You do better. You learn, and you become a better person so that someday, when it's safe to give you another chance, you do better next time."

"B-better how? I don't... I don't understand what I'm supposed to do. I just want you to-to-to l-love me," Nascaria begs, voice muffled against Estelle's body. "How..."

"Do you... do you even understand what you did wrong?" she asks, in a pained whisper.

"I hurt my little- I hurt you," Nasceria replies without delay.

 _Little bird._ She begins to fight back the feelings, but then, recognizing that Nasceria might benefit, lets them come instead. She sags against Aveline, bowing her head as tears stream down her cheeks, removing her hand from her pocket to let it shake visibly. She swallows, letting the struggle show on her face. Aveline hesitates a second, wary of busying her weapon arm, but soon decides that wrapping Hawke in a hug is the better path. Estelle, seeing this, grips Nasceria's hair and, carefully but firmly, twists her head so she has to see the pain she caused.

"Litt-" Nasceria cuts off, swallowing back the name she loves and hates in equal measure. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't- I didn't want to-" He voice cuts out and she flinches, hard, as her contract kicks in. "At- At first, yes, but not- after I loved you, I didn't want to hurt you. I just... I needed to... I needed to keep you. Forever and always."

"Don't use that name," Hawke says, her voice hoarse. She wipes the tears again, her breathing ragged. "I'm not... that. I'm not a pet. I'm a person. I-- I have to be a person, even if I want to-- I have to be a person." Another deep breath, and she pulls a little free of Aveline, leaning on her staff instead. "Do you understand that you caused... the pain, the suffering your actions caused? You loved me before you-- before you told me to dream. How could you do that? When you loved me?"

"I..." She tries to look away, to cast her gaze down, but Estelle doesn't relax her grip. "...I was... I was trying to teach you," Nasceria whispers. "I wanted... I didn't- don't- understand what to do with- with how you make me feel. I just... I just knew I needed you, forever and always. S-so I needed to... get you away from... rivals. And.. teach you how to... survive by my side."

"You would have destroyed me," she whispers, her voice empty, sad. "You would have broken apart everything I am. You would have gained a pet and lost me. You very nearly did."

The lilin, if lilin she still is, sobs softly, screwing her eyes shut. "I know, I'm sorry, I know," she whispers repeatedly, rocking a little. Estelle lets go of her hair, instead rubbing her back, just above where her wings join, to soothe.

"Then that-- that's what you have to do better," Hawke whispers, still sounding small, broken. "You have to find a way to love without breaking. To love and not own."

"Never again, I swear it," Nasceria says, lifting her head suddenly. Eyes blazing slightly, she meets Hawke's gaze directly for the first time since the Wager. "I swear on my existence, on the concept I was born from, on- on the love I cannot ignore, that I will never hurt you that way again on pain of dissolution. I will find a way to love you, to be loved by you, that won't hurt you again. I will, even if it takes me ten thousand years for just the first step. I swear it, my- my Lady Hawke."

 _I won't be around in ten thousand years. She knows that, right? I won't-- I probably won't live to see her become a better person. But I'll have done it. I'll have made this change, no matter what happens to me after this. I can rest, now._ She nods, swallowing. "I accept your oath. Let Astea bless this effort."

Nasceria stills a moment, her expression sliding back to uncertain. "...Astea?" she repeats blankly, then flinches. Then frowns, looking confused.

"Astea is the patron of Love. And my own patron." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "And Clan. Your Clan member. So you can... you can turn to her if you need guidance. You can pray to her and ask her for help. If you want. It's not required -- Helene is dedicated to Alydra, and Aveline won't ever leave Vangal's worship -- but it's there if you want it. You don't... you don't have to be what you were, anymore. You can choose, now."

Nasceria stares at Hawke, wary and... puzzled. "You... I don't..." She swallows hard. "I... I do not have a..." She hesitates, then finally uses the common word despite how... unworthy it is for the concept she wishes to describe. "Deity. Not anymore. I am... flawed now, in Her eyes." She shifts a little, almost looking away from Hawke towards Estelle but unwilling- or perhaps unable- to do so.

Beside her, Hawke can hear Aveline's pained inhale, the idea of being... cast off like that hitting the paladin hard.

"[I sorrow for your loss]." The words are Infernal, but the phrasing is Elven, as native Infernal speakers don't tend to offer comfort -- at least, not from the cultures Hawke has studied.

"It hurts," Nasceria says numbly. "I know She never... I was just..."

"It... we were abandoned, and abandoned in turn, our deity," Estelle says gently. "I follow Ciren now, as more and more of my Famiglia do. You can... find a new deity."

The lilin scoffs. "None who would have me would..." She falters, eyes darting back to Hawke's own.

"Hawke just pointed out that Astea would," Varric points out, knowing what she didn't say.

"I can't speak for Astea, but I doubt she'll turn you away if you come to her earnestly." Hawke wipes at her eyes again. "Do you... have questions for me?"

Nasceria licks her lips. "Is... can I write?" she asks instead. "Mistress Estelle says it's not... that you won't like that I only care about you," she hesitates, giving Hawke a chance to disagree.

"I don't. But you can write to me." She rakes a hand through her hair.

Nasceria wilts a little. "How... how do I... expand things?" she asks tentatively. "Is... only caring about you... _enough_ or do I need to..."

"Hawke loves whom she loves. She can't help herself. But she won't... care about people, like people, that can't at least be _friendly_ with the rest of her Clan," Aveline says softly.

"Try to see the go-- desirable in people," Hawke says softly. "Try to give them the benefit of the doubt. Try to figure out what I see in them. It may be hard to get in the habit but it's well worth it."

"Like... like how Mistress Estelle do not strike me after I told her what I'd done to you?" Nascaria asks softly, eyes dipping again. Next to her, the drow woman tenses, having not planed on letting Hawke know that she was aware of what had been done to her.

Hawke stiffens, staring at Tanna as she tries to control her breathing. "I-- I didn't-- please don't give anyone else details without my consent," she stammers.

The lilin makes a worried noise, gaze snapping to the drow still half holding her. "Mis-"

"I won't ask you to explain or give any details to me or anyone else," Estelle promises, though her eyes are on Hawke's now. "I didn't... I'm sorry Hawke, I thought... I had to be sure she wouldn't... I swear I won't tell anyone what she shared- what I ordered her to share."

Varric is quiet, face blank and empty. Zevran is scowling deeply, knuckles going white and strained as he grips the handle of the dagger he's suddenly holding. "Deep breath," Aveline whispers in Hawke's ear. "I have you."

Hawke takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "Stand down," she says quietly, her eyes doing a circuit of the room. "I'm alright." Another deep breath. "I haven't shared the details mostly because I... I don't want to make my loved ones suffer through the retelling. I'm not offended or-- I wish you didn't ask her to tell you what she did, but it's alright that you know. It might even help, I suppose."

"It... I was- am still, a bit- furious to hear what... was done to you," Estelle admits quietly. "But it will help, knowing what... knowing the sources of my pet's guilt and shame. More, it helps to hear the parts where she cared for you, the parts were she felt love, even if she didn't know to name it that."

Nasceria has gone very still, entirely and utterly aware of how deeply outclassed she is right now if this comes to outright combat. And also entirely and utterly terrified of what will happen to her should this physical shell be destroyed. _Would I reform in- in Her domain? Would I return to the All Mother's territory? Would I simply... be not?_ Eyes closing, she prays. _Please Lady Hawke, please. Please be kinder than I. Please. Please give me a chance to make it right. Please my Lady, my love, my... my soul. Please love me._

Varric turns away, unable to focus on the lilin's thoughts right then. The others in Hawke's Clan slowly stand down, though Aveline doesn't drop the protective arm she's had around Hawke.

Hawke nods, swallowing. "I-- I know. And I did, do, truly love her. This would never have happened if it was all manipulation. Love was required." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "And, I think, loss. Pain. Suffering. The... Love by itself never seems to be enough, does it?" Her tone is a little rueful at the end. "Did you have anything else to ask me?"

Nascaria stares at Hawke for a moment, tears sliding down her face. "You love me?" she breathes, the hope and yearing in her voice almost painful to hear. Hawke had implied it once or twice but this...

Hawke nods, catching her eyes. "I do. I love you, Tanna. I just can't be around you very long right now."

The lilin sags against Estelle, sobbing freely now as the drow gently pets her hair. "You're too good for this world, amata," Aveline murmurs, heart aching for both of the beings before her. _I never thought they'd be a day when I could feel anything more positive than scorn for a sceleratis, much less sympathy or concern. And yet..._

Hawke closes her eyes, fighting the urge to go to Tanna, to cradle her close. She'd negotiated for this, for the ability to hold her, but... _I promised myself I'd ration it out. That I'd only touch her if I thought it would help her. That I'd do all of this, this whole conversation, to help myself and to help her. If I go to her, it will undercut my words. She needs to know that I disapprove, that I am not quite in reach, so she'll keep fighting. Gods, this hurts. How does anyone do it? But it's too important to give in to temptation._ "I think... I think I'd best go," she whispers.

"No!" Nasceria nearly shouts, head snapping up. Eyes wild, she flinches back at the sound of a menacing _click_ behind her, then goes utterly still, not even breathing.

Hawke tenses, frozen. _Shit. Shit, shit, I overdid it, I--_ She swallows. "Use your words." She can't manage the firm tone she had a moment before, but the hoarse whisper at least has the correct words in it.

Varric's eyes snap to Hawke, his expression very eloquently asking 'did you really just steal my line just then?'

The once lilin shivers slightly, then whispers her words as her Lady instructed. "S-sorry. I didn't mean... to order you. I just... one more question? A request?" she begs.

"Alright. One question." She takes a deep breath, trying to get her voice back under control.

"May I beg of you my name, my Lady?" she pleads. Aveline and Estelle both react, the drow's eyes widening noticabely while Aveline stiffens and mutters a soft oath under her breath.

 _A... name?_ "Do you mean a use-name?" she asks, slowly. She whom was once Tantraconcusiscentiæ shakes her head mutely.

"Outsiders- pavitras, tulwaths, and sceleratii all- are named by their creator within moments of that creation," Avelime says in a low voice. "Use names they mostly often pick themselves, and discard on a whim. That first name..."

"No," says Hawke, after a moment to collect herself. "I will not. You have to discover your own name, for yourself, in your own time." _Gods, gods, it's working and I hate myself for it._

The lilin keens softly, her body beginning to shake. "Hawke, she _can't_ name herself. An outsider born of chaos, maybe, but not a devil. Or a mostly devil," Estelle says quickly, trying to comfort her pet, who flinches from the touch as if burned.

"You are not a god, no, but you _are_ her creator Hawke," Zevran comments, the first he's spoken since entering the room. "She isn't what she was anymore, she can't be."

Still, she shakes her head. "I won't -- I can't -- be her patron, not that way. She can ask this of Astea, perhaps. Or keep to the old one. I can't do this." There's a tinge of fear in her voice, but she mostly holds steady.

"Please. Pleasepleaseplease."

"Then a use name," Estelle bargains, going to her kneels to cradle the ex-lilin. "Hawke, she can't- I've never heard of an outsider being rejected for naming, never even considered it. She needs something and unless Astea is willing to send Andraste here to give one, you're it!" She glances around, half expecting a pillar of white-gold light to erupt from somewhere in the room but no such event occurs.

Her stomach churns. "A--alright. Alright. I just-- give me-- I can't-- I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow." She turns, pulling free of Aveline as she power-walks toward the door she came in. _I can't do this right now, I can't. I just can't._

"P-p-prom-mise?" the unnamed devil calls plaintively after her, voice broken and needful.

"I will come back, on my love for Astea," she manages, without turning around.

Curling into a ball, the devil continues to sob, but the despair has left it. Aveline continues to walk with Hawke, shielding her with her body. Varric follows swiftly as well, but Zevran stays behind to ensure his aunt is fine.

"Hawke..?" An offer of comfort or support, a declaration of love and protection, bundled in a single softly spoken word.

She raises her hand, cutting Aveline off -- as if she were going to say more. "No. I-- I need to-- give me a moment." She continues walking, making for the nearest privy.

"Alright," her shield says gently, staying with her but not trying to stop or hinder her at all. Just following, ready to help given the slightest cue.

When she gets to her rooms, Hawke heads into the adjoining bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her. She doesn't lock it; when Aveline opens the door, Hawke is on her knees in front of the toilet, her head on the rim, sobbing silently into the bowl with her arms wrapped around her waist. _I'm going to throw up,_ she thinks, over and over, but for the moment, the tears seem to be holding vomit at bay.

Aveline hesitates, then steps back, half closing the door before sliding down to rest against the wall. Still able to hear, but unable to see without twisting around the side of the doorway, she waits after only saying, "I'm here if you want me, amata." And freezes Varric in his tracks with a fairly unsubtle hand on her weapon.

Hawke does throw up, after a few moments, when she realizes she honestly has to _name_ her, like her _deity_ , like she's Astea and not just a shallow stand-in. Or maybe it's the result of remembering what Verraline did to her, recalling that that book _(should never have read that gods-cursed book)_ and how she had tried her best to use it for good _(never, the ends never justify the means, never doing that again)._

Midway through being sick, Hawke is enveloped with that oh-so familiar and twice as welcome steel glow, the sensation of being protected and cherished alleviating most of her physical symptoms at least. Which doesn't help her mental or emotion anguish.

Eventually, sobbing and vomiting both cease, replaced with muttered speech. At first, she just repeats bits of the Chant, snatches that will come to mind and help her feel more in touch with her goddess again. Then it dissolves, slowly, into begging for forgiveness. And finally, it changes yet again: "Please, if I have any right to ask a boon of you, if there's anything left of your affections for me, please, give me a name to give to her-that-was-Tantraconcusiscentiæ. Please, I can't go through with this, I won't commit blasphemy, as if I had any right to name her, but she needs a name, and I can't let someone I love suffer so much."

And then there's a soft chuckle -- she doesn't _hear_ it or even _feel_ it, just knows it in her soul. _Tantraconcusiscentiæ isn't a new being. She's changed, yes, a great deal but not truly new. So her true name is similar to her old one. Not in infernal of course. Celestial perhaps, if only as motivation of sorts. She was forged from the concept that could be named Adoration of Lust, but that is no longer correct. She is Loved and Loves._

"Mialaentagra," Hawke finds herself whispering. "Desire that Begets Love."

A gossamer kiss to her forehead is the only reply to her words, if her words they were.

"Thank you," she whispers, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "Thank you, thank you. I will strive every day to be worthy of you, my songstress, my guideposts. I-- thank you." Above all, above the gratitude and love, she feels a familiar sense of connection: a feeling of Clan restored, as she finally allows herself to belong to the first and oldest member of her Clan once more.

\---

Hawke returns as promised the next day, bestowing the new name upon the ex-sceleratis. She doesn't stay long, but she does run her fingers through the creature's hair, just once, and press a kiss to her forehead. At the very least, it makes her feel better to show her affection openly.

By the time they're ready to leave the Enclave, Varric's found Rosemary. In truth, it wasn't hard, as the catfolk hadn't gone far: only as far as Toamill, where she was working as a whore to make ends meet while her brother Basil apprentices as a blacksmith. Hawke goes quiet when Varric relays this -- though not quiet enough to make him justify using Detect Thoughts, not knowing how much she hates it. Instead, she merely keeps her own counsel and urges him to write to say they're coming so she's not taken by surprise.

The meeting between the three of them is tense, but Rosemary accepts the money. In truth, she'd rather not have a restoration, not if it would threaten her livelihood; upon hearing this, Hawke immediately doubles the sum she's giving them and offers to help her move back to Nyra. This gets a dark look and a polite refusal. She'll take Hawke's money, and accept her apology, but she neither plans to return to the city of her birth nor accept Hawke's help moving anywhere at all.

They return to Nyra, without Isabela's help. At the very least, Hawke can expect her to return, this time, though she knows not when. Mostly recovered, or at least acting like it, she falls back into a routine: training with Andy, leaning way too much on Bodhain to handle her correspondence, nights spent with Merrill and Zevran. She returns to work, embarking on a personal tour of all her clinics to ensure they've been well taken care of during her absence. She meets up with Nox and Lux, assuring them both that she's fine; she takes time with them to light a candle for Morrigan in Mileen's temple, none of them knowing her well but all knowing well how few often mourn a whore's passing.

The Clan goes on as well. Gilly and Tomas are enrolled in a private school once Gilly's new tutor can assure them she's no longer a danger to other children. Aveline and Varric patch up their differences without Hawke's intervention. Zevran and Helene spend more and more time together, while Estelle writes to them frequently, sometimes with an inclusion from her guest and sometimes not. Anders settles back into his work at Summerhill, though he comes to Nyra more frequently than he once did, ostensibly to confer with Wynne and Seli.

None of them mention the date. Not until Hawke puts a surreptitious event on the Clan calendar: a dinner with Merrill and Zevran, at her home. Aveline gives her an odd look, but Hawke just smiles at her, as though she hadn't noticed, and the paladin lets it go. Neither of them have heard from Carver since he left town, so there's little enough chance of interruption.

The food arrives before Hawke does: she ordered a delivery spread from an Elven restaurant. The next delivery is a huge bouquet of roses, in black and blue, clearly meant to be a table centerpiece. Just as they're beginning to worry about Hawke, she arrives home, and the reason for the delay is clear: she arrives in a carriage to preserve her gorgeous floor-length evening gown, in a stunning gold that fades to white at the hem. She blushes a little as Merrill opens the door, but holds her head high anyway. "Good evening, my wife."

"You look enchanting, my beloved," Zevran says in an honestly awed tone. He sweeps towards, going to a knee once he reaches his lover so he can press kisses to her hand. "What wonder and miracle did I do in a past to be worthy of such lovelies in this one?"

Merrill looks a bit distraught, smoothing at the simple but pretty blue dress she'd worn. It's suitable for a date, particularly one for at home, but it's not on the same level as Hawke's. She steps away from the other two, darting a glance back at her craft room, where her more elaborate costumes are stored. "Yes, lovely," she stammers a little.

"I c-couldn't find anything beautiful enough to serve for dessert," she manages, with only a slight stammer as she smiles. "So I decorated it myself."

Zevran bursts into peals of delighted laughter, surging to his feet so he can grab Merrill hands. He twirls her in place, getting a startled but excited squeal from the elf. "I hereby propose we use our right a grown adults and skip right to dessert," he proclaims grandly.

"Hazzah!" Merrill cheers with a giggle.

Hawke laughs, relieved. "I'm afraid I have to veto that. There's something I wanted to bring up during dinner and I'd rather do so before I let loose."

"Hmmm," Zevran says thoughtfully. "That depends- what, may I ask, doth the lady hide beneath this elegant frippery? Might this lowly soul dare to hope that the... delights continue apace?"

"I'm not wearing anything under my dress," Merrill whispers helpfully. "Well, I'm trying out a new body lotion that Maeve sent me..."

Hawke lets loose a small groan of wanting. "No, seriously," she says, despite the groan. A mischievous grin spreads across her face, then; she leans in close to Zevran and, in a throaty purr, murmurs, "My turn to deny _you_ , my love."

Zevran's eyebrows shoot up and he grins at her, clearly delighted at her play. "Well then... I submit to your whims, my noble love," he purrs, tugging Merrill to the living room before taking a seat. And then pulls Merrill into onto his. "Shall we serve then?" he asks as Hawke follows them in.

Hawke serves, pouring from a bottle of lovely Elven white as they help themselves to the first course: a squash soup with pickled onions and cilantro, with oil drizzled atop it. It's not long before she speaks up, turning the subject from a discussion of news from Voice to the date with a charming lack of grace: "Speaking of being clumsy with a sword, it's my brother's birthday today, as you well know."

Both of her lovers glance at each other, then Merrill nods slowly. "Yes... we remember what today is," she says softly, reaching across the table to take Hawke's hand.

Zevran bites his tongue, not wanting to spoil the mood by speaking his bitter thoughts. _He was not so very clumsy with his sword, given drink, but that makes him no less the hateful ass._

Hawke nods. "I was thinking a lot about Bethany, as I do every year, and well... I think..." She inhales, steeling herself. "I think it's time to make something else out of this day. Something not as... morbid. So I want to-- if you're willing and the rest of the clan are willing, I think I want to rename today. Make this the last time I celebrate Bethany's death and the first year we start celebrating our Clan instead, our official Clan day."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea," Zevran says warmly, reaching across as well to lay his hand atop both females' hands. "And I think she would be pleased to hear that as well."

"Did you have any ideas about how you'd want to celebrate?" her wife asks.

Hawke gestures at the spread. "Next year we should do something with the whole clan, maybe a picnic or something, but tonight, I had two ideas. Number one, spend the night with just the three of us, since I'm not really up for a big party. And number two..." She smiles, fidgeting with her fingers. "I want to have a baby." She says this right to Merrill, though she adds quickly, "for the Clan, I mean, a Clan baby."

Zevran's smile goes a bit stale but he's greatly overshadowed by Merrill's ecstatic warble... yelp... babble. It's certainly a noise, one that has a vague resemblance to speech. _Hawke's baby. A part of her and me, together. An innocent babe, one that will never be alone or abandoned. A child with Hawke's smile, the smile that saved me, the first smile untainted by pity or scorn. Our child._ After a solid thirty seconds, she pops off Zevran's lap and grabs Hawke's hand, clearly intent on dragging Hawke upstairs to get started on that right then and there.

The merikos drow watches with a sense of calm and... contentment slowly falling over him. A Clan baby. _Merrill and Hawke's baby. Their baby, not mine. I... perhaps that will be okay. Perhaps that will... no. No, with our Clan, with the love we all share, it will absolutely be fine. There will be trouble and danger and problems... but it will be fine. If one of us falters, the others will catch them. Trust. I just need to trust them. Trust **us**. Trust Clan._

Hawke catches her hand a moment, tugging her wife close and pressing a firm kiss to her soft, yielding lips. _This is where I belong. With Merrill. With Zevran. With Aveline, with Papa, with Seli and Andy, with Nox and Lux, with Wynne and Anders, with Estelle and Claudia, with Helene. Here, in Nyra, surrounded by family, with two children already and more on the way. I've made a life for myself here, a life I chose when the cards Fate dealt me turned out to be a pile of dung. Maybe, in time, I'll be happy again._

She abandons the food, then, letting her lovers take her upstairs, undress her, cover her in kisses. Afterward, as she drifts off into a blissful sleep, surrounded by the tangle of limbs that make up her loved ones, she can almost believe she already is. She contemplates, for the moment, just letting the rest of it go. Not being a hero, not being a Guiding Light, not being the Matriarch, not being anything other than Marian Tethras Hawke, lover and loved, and being happy.

She knows it won't last. She knows duty will drag her out of this warm, safe bed sooner rather than later. She knows someday she'll be called on to make another sacrifice, to save people again. But that's tomorrow's problem. Today, she doesn't have to give speeches or make diplomatic gestures or convince anyone of anything. Today, all she has to say are those three magical words:

Honesty.

Openness.

Trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all -- the end of the series. Thank you for reading so far, and please do leave me a comment with your favorite parts, characters, et cetera. Thank you very much for giving my take this much of a home in your imagination for so long!


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